Gatehammer Fantasy Battles
by Cirex Review
Summary: A Gate opens, and a war begins that decides the fate of two worlds. From Falmart, to the heart of the Old World, from Ulthuan to the World's Edge Mountains, to the daemon North. Armies clash, and great powers face off.
1. Chapter 1

_Fort Griffon, the Gateworld, known to the locals as Alnus Hill_

Erhardt Franz Holswig Schliestein, fourth son of the Emperor, Karl Franz, surveyed the carnage from atop his horse. Already the carrion birds were feasting on the dead, paying no head if the fallen were dressed in either the scarlet and white of his native Reikland, or the strange armor of the locals.

He thanked Sigmar and Morr that the majority of the slain were of the latter, and not the former.

After four weeks of bloodshed, the Invader Army had finally backed off, no longer willing to throw their men into the meat grinder that were the Imperial Iron Companies. Erhardt had been in the thick of the fighting for most of the siege, and his formerly pristine armor, was dented, and covered in blood, both his enemies, and his own.

Erhardt was tall for a young man, and athletic, though he had yet to fill out in certain places. He had inherited the strong jaw of his father's family, and the aquiline nose of his mother. A scar in the corner of his mouth, earned in a fight against a drunken Estalian Prince, made it seem as if he was constantly smirking. He was dressed in black armor, decorated with symbols of both Sigmar and Morr. Many raised an eyebrow at his choice of patron deities, but he paid them no mind. Though it was in Sigmar's name he fought, he, like every other man, was destined for Morr's Garden.

As he continued to survey the field, his mind went back to the days before the Gate appeared, before an unknown foe had invaded the lands of his ancestors, burning and pillaging on a direct course to Ubersreik, before the Emperor Karl Franz and a coalition army of Empire Provinces had broken the invading army, scattered them to the four winds, and had themselves marched through the Gate.

On the other side, they had discovered a whole new world, one similar to, yet different from the Old World of their birth. The Gate was the only way to and from the Old World, and it was in the best interests of the Empire to insure that the invaders could not regain it. Therefore, the Emperor had ordered the construction of defenses all across the hill, and had shipped in expensive dwarfen builders to oversee the work. After a month of building, impressive wood and stone fortifications were erected on the hill, surrounding the Gate, allowing for only one way in or out.

No sooner had the fortifications been completed than the invaders came again.

The Empire army had the high ground, fortifications, and the might of the Iron Companies.

The enemy had numbers though, and for every Empire man, the foe had ten more.

What followed was the greatest industrialized slaughter of human beings that Erhardt had ever seen. He was no stranger to war; when one was a Prince of Altdorf, you had to fight beastmen, greenskins, the occasional undead, and all other manner of mutant and monsters.

Still though, the foe Erhardt was fighting were not monsters, mutants, corpse, or follower of the dark gods; they were simply men, and it seemed wrong to Erhardt that they had to kill one another.

However, they threatened his home, and for the defense of his ancestral homeland, he would kill as many of the invaders as necessary.

And he did. Following the orders of his superiors, he commanded a company of halberdiers, and with them, he fought on the walls, on the ground, the gatehouses, and, when the situation called for it, he mounted his horse, and charged into the enemy's ranks.

Finally, after four weeks of battle, the enemy left, having been bloodied to the point of near defeat.

It was thanks only to the Dawi's skill as builders, the Emperor's strategic brilliance, and the Empire's control of the Gate, allowing them to send fresh men and a stream of supplies that victory was achieved.

Now, Erhardt was put in charge of overseeing the recovery the Empire's dead from the field. He had spent the past weeks barely sleeping, constantly fighting, and it took all of his willpower to keep his body moving.

"My Prince!"

Erhardt turned his head to the left, and saw a knight of the Reiksguard ride up to him.

"Yes, what is it?" Erhardt asked, curtly.

"The Emperor demands your presence in the Keep, at once."

"Well, I would be a poor son to keep my father and emperor waiting." Erhardt said to the knight, before turning his gaze to his company, "Captain Klaus!"

"Yes My Lord?" a grizzled soldier, with a beard and an eyepatch over his left eye answered from a few yards away.

"The Emperor desires my presence in the Keep. You will take over our job in my stead until my return."

"Understood My Lord." Klaus nodded.

"Well then," Erhardt said, turning his horse around and making for the direction of the fort, "Let us see what my father wants."

* * *

The Keep of Fort Griffon was a wooden structure four stories high. The dawi carpenters made it highly defensible, crafted from Reikwald oak, and as solid as any stone structure built by human hands.

Outside the great doors of the Keep, Erhardt always took the time to admire the work put in by the mountain folk; their victory was due in no small part to the the sturdy construction of their fortifications. WIthout them, they would have been overrun weeks ago, guns or no guns.

"Erhardt, lad! There you are!" Erhardt turned his head and his eyes went wide as he saw the speaker walk up to him.

"Duke Marius!" he exclaimed, bowing his head, and trying to keep his surprise in check, "To what do I owe the honor?"

Marius Leitdorf, Grand Duke of Averland, Ruler of Averheim, and the most unhinged Elector Count since Magnus reunited the Empire.

He was also a close friend of the Emperor Karl Franz, despite the madness, and one of the finest duelists in the Empire.

The Grand Duke was dressed in a costume colored black and gold, with purple leggings and yellow shoes, and on top his head was a cap with a huge feather. One could describe his dress as comical, almost jesterlike, were it not for the Runefang, 'Mother's Ruin,' and the long dueling dagger strapped to his sides.

Marius was one of several Electors to take the fight to the invaders, and his mad charges and fearless offensives had driven terror into the hearts of the enemy who dared to take Sigmar's land for their own. He was also one of the first to suggest pursuing the enemy through the Gate, and during the four week long siege, had led several midnight raids into the enemy's camps, torching tents, murdering officers in their sleep, and making off with loot, horses, and the occasional severed head.

"Oh, don't be so formal lad; after all, I've seen your bottom when you were a little baby." Marius said, loudly, much to the young Prince's frustration, and to the amusement of several passing soldiers.

"I merely thought we could walk to your father's war council together." Marius explained, opening the doors, "And perhaps talk of some news that may have come to me."

"What sort of news?" the younger man asked hesitantly. You would never know what to expect from Leitdorf. There was always the chance that it could be important, but there was always the possibility that the Mad Duke was leading you on, setting you up to be a punchline in his joke.

"Well, now that the enemy has been defeated, driven from our lands, and this damn gate has been secured, many of the Electors who participated in this campaign wish to go home, and to take their armies with them. The mutants in the forests and the greeskins in the mountains won't wait for us to settle our affairs here after all."

"True enough I suppose Duke Marius," Erhardt replied as the two men walked through the halls, and pass the various soldiers, servants, and other fort staff, "But this gate still needs to be defended. We were outnumbered two to one in that last battle; should the other Electors pull their support now, the gate will be left severely undermanned."

"Too true, too true." Marius agreed, but did not seem to share the same sense of worry that Erhardt did, "That's why your father is calling this council; to decide what is to be done."

Several minutes later, they arrived at the grand chamber that Karl Franz had taken for his war council, and two knights of the Reiksguard opened the doors for them, and allowing them inside.

Inside the room was a massive table, carved from Drakwald oak. Seated at it were all the nobles and officers of the campaign, busy talking amongst themselves.

"Helborg!" Marius shouted upon catching sight of Kurt Helborg, the famed Reiksmarshal, Grand Master of the Reiksguard Knights, and the man you had the honor of squiring for several years ago.

"So glad to see that you survived the battle!" Marius said, "And I am even gladder to see that the hairy caterpillar upon your lip has not grown wings and flown off your face yet! I daresay that none of us would have been able to recognize you otherwise!"

"Grand Duke." was the only acknowledgement Marius got from Helborg, but the tightening of the Reiksmarshal's jaw was all the indication that one needed to know that Helborg was annoyed.

Helborg was not the only great hero of the Empire to be present; Boris Todbringer, the Graf of Middenheim, was seated at the table, his one good eye scanning the room.

Todbringer had once been the main rival of Erhardt's father for the position of Emperor, but years of fighting alongside one another had turned Todbringer from a rival into a loyal supporter. When the invaders had come through the Gate, Todbringer and his Ulrican wolves had come down from the north like an icy wind, and had torn the foe to pieces with their savage might.

Next to Todbringer was the Ar-Ulric, Emil Valegir, who had joined Tobringer on this campaign, and had personally slain several of the giant ogre like monsters that the invaders had brought with them. To Erhardt, the Ar-Ulric was an enigmatic, almost ethereal being, whom was always accompanied by a pair of giant wolves, and appeared to wear a crown of winter upon his brow.

Across from the Ulricans sat Balthasar Gelt, Gold Wizard, and Supreme Patriarch of the Colleges of Magic. The most powerful magister of the age, Gelt was known for his great ambitions, tempered only by his apparent patriotism for the Empire, and his allegiance to the Emperor. As a master over the Lore of Metal, Gelt had used the Winds of Magic to rain down molten gold upon the foe outside of Ubersreik, and had turned entire columns of the enemy into statues. What magic users the invader possessed paled in comparison to the overwhelming might of the Supreme Patriarch.

Next to Gelt was the Grand Theogonist, Volkmar the Grim, who was currently living up to his name by shooting glares at Marius. When news of the invaders had first reached Altdorf, Volkmar was among the first to respond, gathering the faithful together and riding out to meet the enemy. Atop his War Altar, Volkmar had brought down holy fire upon the foe, and put the fear of Sigmar into their hearts.

At the head of the table stood Ludwig Schwarzhelm, Champion of the Emperor, wielder of the Sword of Justice, and bearer of the Emperor's Standard. Ludwig had led the hunting parties into the Reikwald, where the invaders were fighting with the local beastmen warherds, and after waiting for both sides to bleed one another, had struck and defeated both. During the siege, Schwarzhelm held together the west wall, where the heaviest fighting took place, and had singlehandidly slain one of the dragon riders employed by the invaders.

Finally, sitting at the head of the table, was the Emperor Himself, Karl Franz Holswig Schliestein, Grand Prince of Reikland, Prince of Altdorf, Count of the West March, Emperor himself and Blood of Emperors, and Defier of the Dark. He wore the gromril armor of Emperors, forged, in part, from the armor of Magnus the Pious. Laying on the table in front of him was Ghal Maraz, the legendary warhammer of Sigmar Heldenhammer.

"Good," Karl Franz said evenly, and calmly, but in a tone that commanded respect, "Now that Marius and my son are here, we can begin.

"Since this war started, we have defeated two armies; one in the Empire, and another one here, in this new world. Unfortunately, we cannot stay here much longer. The beastmen, the greenskins, the Northmen, and the other forces of Old Night will not wait for us to settle things here before they attack us. We must return to the Empire, and defend our lands from those who wish to destroy us. Still, until we can discover a way to shut down the Gate, and prevent the invaders from crossing through ever again, we would be fools to abandon this position entirely.

"That is the purpose of this meeting; to determine who will stay behind."

* * *

"Then it is decided." Karl Franz announced, "As it lies within my Province, Reikland will shoulder the bulk responsibility of defending the Gate from the invaders. Ten thousand men Reiklanders will be posted here in Fort Griffon, under the command of a General of my choosing. In addition, three thousand men from another province will also be stationed here, with the Provincial army rotating regularly. All that is left is to decide which Province will be first."

"I volunteer." Graf Boris announced, "Let it not be said that the Sons of Ulric did not stand by while the Empire was threatened from within."

"Excellent. I thank you for your contribution Boris." Karl said, a ghost of a smile on his face, "Now then, that will be all. You are all dismissed."

If he were a weaker Emperor, the Electors would have never have stood for the tone Franz took with them, nor bore being 'dismissed' as if they were schoolchildren, such were their pride.

This was not a weak Emperor though; this was Karl Franz, the most accomplished Emperor since Magnus, and only a foolish Elector would openly defy him.

Erhardt stood up, and began to follow the other men out.

"Hold a moment Erhardt."

Erhardt stopped in his tracks. He turned around and faced his father.

"We must speak. Come with me."

Erhard said nothing, but lightly bowed his head, and followed his father to the rooms the Emperor had taken for his own personal chambers.

"I've heard that you distinguished yourself well during the battle." Karl said as he poured a glass of wine, "I'm pleased to know that I've successfully raised another warrior in the family."

"I merely did my duty Papa." Erhardt replied as he sank into a plush chair. Now that they were alone, they could drop the formality.

"I expect nothing less from one of my boys." Karl replied, passing the glass to Erhardt, who took it gingerly in his armored hands, "In the end, all we can hope for is that we did our duty; whether it's too Reikland, the Empire, or to our family. You've made remarkable progress since you received your first commission; and now I've selected you for an important task."

"What sort of task Papa?"

"I must find a general to command the garrison. It needs to be someone with both experience, loyal to the Empire, and one that I can trust."

Karl leveled his steely eyed gaze at Erhardt.

"I suppose in this case, two out of three will have to do."

"Wait, you're picking me?" Erhardt was so shocked he almost stuttered, "But I'm not even twenty. Surely someone with more experience would be more suited-"

"Tell me Erhardt, how many fourth sons inherit anything of worth?"

"I... what? I mean, little father. Fourth sons inherit little."

"Exactly. Luitpold is going to be Prince of Reikland and Altdorf and, if he plays his cards right, could become Emperor one day. Siegbald is going to come into a large castle along the West March, as well as several smaller ones, and Kurt will spend the rest of his days as the Lord of a handful of country estates. Which leaves you, Erhardt. The best a fourth son can hope for is money, which you will of course receive upon my death, but that's not enough for one of my sons. That's why I'm giving you this hill."

"The hill father? I thought I was to be general until Gelt and his Magisters can divine a way to close the Gate?"

"Gelt is not sure that such a feat is possible." Karl admitted as he looked out the window of his room, "He has confided in me that whomever it was that created this Gate, be they god, daemon, or mortal, they used incredibly powerful, and incredibly resilient magic. It may never be undone. In which case, this hill is now an Imperial march, which will make you a Margrave."

"I... am honored, Father." Erhardt said, "But do you think I am ready to rule?"

"Sigmar no." Karl answered bluntly, "When you were a child, we trained you how to be a soldier, not a ruler. That is why I will send far more experienced men to serve as your advisers. They will be intelligent individuals, and if you wish to succeed then you will heed their council in all things, even if they tell you things that you do not wish to hear... especially then."

"I understand Father."

"Good. In addition to these advisers, I will also be posting experienced generals to serve under you, as well as Priests and Mages for support. They will support you where you are weak, and from them, you will grow stronger in areas you are lacking. It is not an ideal situation, but it will suffice. Let it never be said that a member of our House could not learn."

"From this day to your last day, you will be the Margrave of the Alnus March, and when you die, your children will inherit your title, and their children after them."

"I accept this responsibility father."

"Good. As of now, you will be the Empire's first line of defense against the invaders. You are also charged with exploring the lands surrounding Alnus Hill, and see if you can not subvert them to our purposes."

"That's the second time you've said 'Alnus'. Why did you choose that name for this place?"

"I did not; according to the prisoners, Alnus this the name that the locals gave this place."

"The locals- someone learned how to speak their language?"

"Partly. The men who interegated the prisoners obtained a rough understanding of enough words to carry on part of a conversation, while more progress has been made in using less orthodox methods.

"If I may inquire Papa, who undertook these _unorthodox methods?_ "

"A wizard of the Purple Order named Olga Kahler. She was able to acquire a basic understanding of the enemy's language."

"How did she-"

"Death magic. She called upon the souls of the fallen enemy soldiers, and, through speaking with them, " Karl said, and that was all the answer Erhardt wanted, afraid to pry deeper into a Wizard's affairs.

* * *

 _This is a dark age, a bloody age, an age of daemons and of sorcery. It is an age of battle and death, and of the world's ending. Amidst all the fire, flame, and fury it is a time, too, of mighty heroes, of bold deeds and great courage._

 _At the heart of the Old World sprawls the Empire, the largest and most powerful of the human realms. Known for it's engineers, sorcerers, traders and soldiers, it is a land of great mountains, mighty rivers, dark forests and vast cities. And from his throne in Altdorf reigns the Emperor Karl Franz, sacred descendant of the founder of these lands, Sigmar Heldenhammer, and wielder of his magical warhammer, Ghal Maraz._

 _But these are far from civilized times. Across the length and breadth of the Old World, from the knightly palaces of Bretonnia to the ice-bound Kislev in the far north, come rumblings of war. In the towering Worlds Edge Mountains, the greenskin tribes are gathering for another assault. Bandits and renegades harry the wild southern lands of the Border Princes. There are rumors of rat-men, the Skaven, emerging from the sewers and swamps across the land. Something old and unholy stirs in Sylvannia, and talk is that the Von Carsteins have come again. And from the northern wildernesses there is the ever present threat of Chaos, of daemons and beastmen corrupted by the foul powers of the Dark Gods. And to add to the host of troubles the men of the Empire already face, a mysterious and magical Gate has appeared, and armies of invaders pour through it._

 _As the time of battle draws ever near, the Empire needs heroes like never before..._


	2. Chapter 2

_The Shadowlands, Ulthuan_

"When we heard the noise, we thought it was just more Druuchi. Then we saw the thing; an archway made in the style of a human realm, obviously magical in nature. Nothing's come through it as of yet save a few beasts. None of us dared to enter the damned thing either, prefering to wait for your arrival Master Mage."

"Your caution does you credit Shadow Warrior," Sholacrel, mage of the White Tower of Hoeth, said to the elf who had led him to the magical gateway, "Gods only know what the origin of this thing is, or what might have become of you."

"Whatever it is, it bodes ill for us all." spoke Prince Madir, "So if you could begin before we all become old, it would be greatly appreciated."

The elves were standing atop a cliff side looking down at the beach before them. The Shadow Warrior stood to the left of Sholacrel, who was attended to by his senior apprentices. Madir, dressed in his ithilmar mail, and surrounded by his bodyguard and senior officers. Soon, they would traverse down a path towards the shore, and towards the reason for their presence, the mysterious archway.

Several weeks ago, reports came to the White Tower from the Shadowlands, of magical structure appearing on the shores of their ruined kingdom. After securing the archway, and fighting off the Druuchi scouts who infested the Shadowlands for it, the Shadow Warriors had sent for magical expertise. The High Loremaster Teclis responded by sending Sholacrel, a senior Archmage, and his apprentices, to the Shadowlands, escorted by Swordmasters.

The Shadowlands were dangerous though, and the archway was a complete unknown. For additional security, Sholacrel had called in a favor from his first cousin, Prince Madir, originally from Caledor but now dwelling in Ellyion with the family of his wife, for more forces to supplement the Shadow Warriors. In addition to Madir's own bodyguard, the Prince had brought with him two regiments each of spearmen and archers, as well as a band of Silver Helm Knights.

Young Vanon was one of those Silver Helms. Already unusual for being from a family with multiple children, he was the youngest of his family, and as such, Vanon stood little in inherit. Therefore, he took up arms for his Kingdom, and joined the ranks of the Silver Helms, both for glory and for the guantee of a future away from the shadows of his far more accomplished siblings.

He had done well so far; fighting Dark Elf raids on the Outer Kingdoms, as well as incursions by the fierce Norscans. It was during one of these raids that Vanon had slain the Norscan Warleader, and earned a place at the side of his superior, Prince Madir. Therefore, it was only natural that Madir had brought Vanon along to this trip to the Shadowlands.

The trip was uneventful, but it would be foolish to drop their guard now; Druuchi savages known as 'Shades' littered the countryside of the Shadowlands, and there was continuous fighting here between the Shadow Warriors and the servants if the Witch King.

"Do not press me Cousin," Sholacrel snapped, "Do I tell you how to impale an elf with your lance? No, so leave the affairs of magic to me."

"Fine." Madir replied, turning to Vanon, "Speak with the Shadow Warriors concerning any Druuchi presence in the area. If they suspect a threat, I wish to know of it. Then report back to me. I'm going down there." The Prince then turned on his heal and began making his way back to his horse.

"At once My Prince." Vanon said, though the proud Caledorian could no longer hear him. The young elf then turned towards the Shadow Warrior, "I apologize for my Lord; he is Caledorian you see-"

"Say no more." she replied, "We know of the Dragon Prince's... pride. We also no better than to take offense."

"That is good. Now, about the Druuchi?"

"After the initial attack from the Shades, we haven't encountered any. The Shadow King Alith Anar hunts for them, but so far, none have been seen, which is highly unusual."

"Do you think they are preparing for an assault on the archway?" Vanon asked. Though they currently knew nothing about the archway, even a young, elf like Vanon knew that to let it fall into the hands of the Witch King and his accursed mother.

"Anything is possible with the druuchi involved." she stated, "My people will continue to scour the countryside. Your Prince will guard the archway. I will keep you informed."

"Very well, I will relay this to my Prince. Good hunting...forgive me, but I do not believe I caught your name."

"It is Ivake. May the Cadai watch over you Silver Helm."

* * *

 _Destroyed Village, Unknown Lands_

"Well, any survivors yet?" Vanon asked from the back of his horse.

"None so far Captain." answered a spearman, "Merely more bodies."

After several days of research, Sholacrel had discovered the true nature of the archway, and its ability to travel to an another world. No sooner had he finished explaining this than he had asked for volunteers to go through it, and see what was on the other side.

Sending the Shadow Warriors was the first, logical choice. They were the most elite scouts on Ulthuan after all. However, with the threat of Druchii still hanging in the air, the Shadow Warriors were needed to guard the archway, and to continue to hunt for the enemy.

Therefore, Prince Madir had volunteered Vanon and a small squad of bowmen and spearmen through the archway; to see what was on the other side, and to determine if anything remotely civilized lived there.

When they had stepped through the portal, they had been greeted to the sight of vast grassy plains.

For the past few days, they traveled east, hoping to come across something besides wild animals.

On the dawn of the third day, Vanon believed that only beasts actually inhabited this world.

Then, on the fourth day, his party saw a forest; the first change in scenery since their mission began.

Of course, the forest also happened to be on fire at the time, with, of all creatures, a dragon flying overhead.

They waited for the dragon to leave before they moved into the woods. If the dragons here were anything like the ones back home on Ulthuan, then they did not burn down forests for no reason. Something was the target of it's wrath, and Vanon was determined to find out what exactly it was.

So they had entered the woods, and had come across a small village... or what was left of it after the dragon had been through it. All that remained was a handful of half destroyed structures, and many skeletons, some whose bones were half melted by dragon fire.

Due to the sheer scale of the destruction, and that only bones remained, it was impossible to tell what had actually lived here. So far, this excursion into the woods had proven to be merely a dead end.

"Asuryan damn it." Vanon cursed under his breath as he dismounted and led his mount to the well, one of the few surviving structures in the smoking remains of the village, "Returning to Prince Madir empty handed sits poorly with me."

"With all due respect Captain, we've only a few days of supplies left." a bowman said frankly, "We must begin heading back to the archway."

"I know Urhac." Vanon admitted sadly to the bowman. One half of him upset that they had nothing to show for this expedition, while the other half was upset for the lack of survivors.

"Thanks the Cadai that this well still stands. At the very least we will not die of thirst. Begin refilling our flasks." Vanon ordered as he grabbed the well's bucket, still miraculously attached to a rope, and dropped it into the well.

Not even a second after he had dropped the bucket than he heard two things; one was the bucket hitting something, followed by a splash.

The bucket had hit something on it's way down to the water.

Vanon looked over the edge of the well and his eyes widened.

"I see someone down there!" he exclaimed, unbuckling his sword and taking off his helmet, "Whomever they are they're still breathing!

"Urhac, grab this rope! I may need some help getting back up! Syanoc, grab some more rope from the packs! If this one breaks then I'll be needing another way to get us out of that well. Lellehe, prepare your equipment; whomever is down there may need a healer."

And so, Vanon climbed down the well. Upon reaching the bottom, his eyes acclimated to the darkness, and he could see that the person at the bottom was both a young girl, and an elf!

Elves, here, in another world? How? When? Why? Were they Asur, Asrai, or, dare he think it, Druchii?

Questions for later.

Vanon lifted the girl over his shoulder and began the climb back up. He was strong for a young elf, and though it took some effort, he was able to both climb back up the well, as well as carry the unconscious elf girl.

Upon reaching the top, he handed the girl to Lellehe, the healer, who immediately began inspecting the girl's head.

Vanon took a closer look at the girl and was struck by her looks. All elves were beautiful, but this girl was a beauty even among their kind. Not quite as slender as his kin, but her face looked like she belonged at court in Avelorn with the Everqueen.

Most of all, Vanon was just happy that they had found a survivor.

"How is she Lellehe?" Vanon asked the healer.

"All things considering, not too bad." Lellehe replied, her attention on dressing the girl's injuries, "But I believe she could have done without you inflicting that head wound on her with that bucket."

Vanon said nothing, grunted involuntarily. It was not as if he meant to knock her out; he did not even know that anyone was down there!

"Thankfully, your weapon of choice did not do any real damage." Lellehe explained, "By some miracle it seems she completely survived the dragon's fire with nothing more than a few scratches and bruises. Nothing that cannot be healed with time."

"That's good to know." Vanon said, not once taking his eyes off the girl, "Very good to know."

"Captain?" Urhac asked, brining Vanon back to reality, "She's an elf."

"I know, Urhac." Vanon retorted, reluctantly tearing his gaze away from the girl and to Urhac, "If she is an elf, then I believe it is safe to assume that this was an elf village."

"I concur Captain." Urhac said, looking around, "If there are elves here though, would there be other, familiar races here as well? Could there be humans, greenskins, or worse, dwarfs here as well?"

"I do not know Urhac." Vanon admitted, walking towards his horse, "Those are questions for later though. For now though, we move out as soon as Lellehe is finished tending to the girl. We move out of these woods, and then make camp for the night."

"What about the girl Captain?" Urhac asked, "Are we bringing her with us?"

"Of course." Vanon replied, "She'll ride with me."

"Of course Captain."

* * *

"Prince Erhardt, there's a caravan over there."

Erhardt rode his horse over to Siegfried and took the telescope from the knight's hands, and looked through it. Sure enough, there was a wagon train of locals.

"Do you believe them to be merchants?" Erhardt asked as he looked the caravan over.

"They're not a merchant caravan." Siegfried answered, tightening his hold on the reins of his horse, "They are refugees, more likely than not."

"I do believe, Sir Siegfried, that you are correct." Erhardt said, "They do in fact have the look of refugees."

When you live in Altdorf for as long as Erhardt had, you learned how to tell the difference between a normal traveler and one forced to flee for their lives. Beastmen, greenskins, undead, and any number of other terrors made refugees out of the Empires citizens, and made villagers who never traveled more than a few miles from the place of their birth to take the long journey to safety.

Many of those refugees inevitably ended up in Altdorf.

"If they are refugees," Father Wilhelm, a dour Warrior-Priest of Sigmar, said, balancing his hammer on his shoulder, "Then what are they fleeing from, and should we be concerned?"

One week ago, Erhardt had been made a General, and been given command of the Fort, just as his father said, and promised that the Margrave title would soon follow.

No sooner had he taken command than the Emperor had also sent him new soldiers, famed for their battlefield deeds, as well as experienced men to advise him.

Among the individuals that now made up his command staff included Siegfried von Tempenhoff, a first born son of a powerful Altdorf family, and a friend of Erhardt's. A former Reiksguard Knight, he was a veteran of many battles, and as such, was currently serving as Erhardt's second.

In addition to the career military men who now made up the young Prince's command staff, a group of battle wizards from the Colleges of Magic had also arrived. Ottmar, Magister of the Gold Order, the same as the current Supreme Patriarch, was the unofficial leader of the group. He was dressed in the golden robes of his order, but, in a departure of the current fashion of those who wield the Lore of Metal, did not hide himself with a mask, instead letting the whole world see his face. Three more wizards, Detlev of the Bright Order, Konrada of the Amber Order, and Markus of the Celestial Order, came with him.

No sooner had the Wizards stepped through the Gate than they immediately began recording everything. Apparently, this world was 'strange' to them in regards to magic, and they were determined to find out why. Erhardt was no scholar, lest of all in the arcane, but he allowed the wizards to go about their work regardless. He trusted their judgment, and their knowledge in such matters exceeded his own.

Father Wilhelm, the representative of the Church of SIgmar, was less than pleased by Erhardt allowing the wizards free reign. Like most members of the Priesthood, he had a great suspicion of magic, even when it was on his own side. Regardless though, he heeded Erhardt's command, but resolved to keep an eye on them anyway.

The good Father was not the only man watching the Wizards with sharp eyes; Wilhelm had brought along with him Victor Hausller, an... honored member of Holy Order of the Templars of Sigmar... a Witch Hunter. There was a hard man if Erhardt had ever seen one. This was a man who hunted heretics and monsters, burned both them, and the innocent at the stake, and probably slept easily in the night.

Erhardt had fought mutant beastmen, greenskins, and all the might of the Invaders.

Victor Hausller scared him more than any of those monsters did.

What was worse, Erhardt was fairly certain that Hausller knew it.

Right now, all of these individuals went with Erhardt into his excursions of the Invader's countryside, accompanied by a small group of Reiksguard Knights, and several companies of pistoliers.

They had been ready to turn around and return back to the fort when Siegfried had caught sight of the caravan.

"Well Prince?" Siegfried asked, "What shall we do with them? Let them pass or do we go down and say 'hello?'"

"We need more information on these lands my Prince." Ottmar said as he rode up next to Erhardt, "We have a brief understanding of their language, but we need local knowledge. Perhaps we could work out a deal with those folk-"

"Or we could put the fear of the Heldenhammer into them, Magister." Hausller interupted, "And force them to confess their knowledge."

"Enough, both of you." Erhardt commanded, trying to rein in his fear of the Witch Hunter "We will talk to these people. Heinrich?"

Erhardt's squire, a ten year old boy from a Duke's family, had his pony step forward.

"Yes M'Lord?"

"Do you have the Book?"

"Yes M'Lord."

'The Book' refered to the rough collection of everything that the Empire knew of the Invader's language. Without it, they had no hope of understanding what the locals would say.

"Hold a moment Prince Erhardt," Siegfried said, taking the telescope from the Prince's hands, "I see another group of people on the horizon."

"Are they the enemy?" Erhardt asked, "Or bandits?"

"No, no. I... I cannot believe that I am saying this, but I believe they are elves."

"Elves?" Erhardt repeated, a bit shocked, "So this land has elves as well as men. Fascinating."

"They are native to this land Prince Erhardt." Siegfried said with a shake of his head, "They fly colors from Ulthuan."

"The Asur?" Ottmar exclaimed, "Here? What are the Westerly folk doing-"

The mage was cut off by a distant roar. The men of the Empire turned their attention away from the Asur and back to the direction of the Caravan, which was currently under attack by a enormous flying monster, one that Erhardt had only seen once before, at the Imperial Zoo at Altdorf.

"Sigmar preserve us!" Wilhelm said, grasping his warhammer with both hands, "It's a Morr damned dragon!"

"A proper dragon at that." Seigfried added, "Not like those runts the Invaders rode."

The knight then turned to Erhardt, a serious look on his bearded face.

"My friend, we must leave before the beast notices us. We have no weapon that can stand before a dragon."

"On the contrary my good knight." Ottmar said, his fellow mages behind him, "You have four of the Winds of Magic at your disposal."

Erhardt looked skeptical before turning back to the dragon, unsure of what to do.

"My Prince," Ottmar started, "We must find out more about this land. That caravan is the only thing available to us right now. If we let that dragon kill them all, it may be some time fore we get another chance. In addition, the caravan will owe us their lives."

Erhardt said nothing for a second, before he nodded.

"Men!" he shouted, "Draw the attention of the dragon away from the caravan and the wizards. Ottmar and his fellows are going to kill that beast for us! Now ride, as if Khaine and all his hell were upon you!"

* * *

"Captain Vanon, it's the dragon again!" a bowman said.

"I can see it." Vanon replied, looking at the great beast as it attacked a human wagon train.

The young elf girl's wounds had been treated, but she was still unconscious. They could no longer afford to wait, so instead of riding with Vanon, the girl was instead placed upon a makeshift stretcher, and carried between two spearmen. After the refilled their water, the party had set out. A few hours into the march, they caught sight of the wagons. Vanon was going to ride over to greet them, before the dragon that had burned down the girl's village had appeared.

Now, they were witnessing more of the dragon's rampage unfurling before their very eyes.

"A poor way to go." Urhac commented, "Whatever those humans may or may not have done in their life, I would not wish death by dragonfire on my worst enemy."

"Not even if it was a Druchii?"

"Not even then."

Vanon grunted before he addressed the party, "We double back the way we came, and wait for the dragon to leave! No point in risking our lives-"

"Captain, humans on horseback are riding towards the dragon!" Urhac exclaimed.

Then they are brave, but nothing to do with us-"

"They bear banners of the Empire of Man!"

 **That** got Vanon's attention. Empire humans, here?

"How in the name of the Cadai-" Vanon started.

"Captain!"

Vanon growled. He was becoming tired of being cut off mid sentence.

"What is it Lellehe?"

"It's the girl! She's awake!"

The girl was indeed awake, and already standing, and though her footing was uncertain, her eyes were sharp and alert looking at the dragon in the distance.

Vanon got off his horse and made his way to her. The girl saw Vanon and tried to take a step, only to stumble, forcing Lellehe to catch her.

"Are you alright?" Vanon asked the girl, "Can you tell us your name?"

The girl responded with a quick succession of gibberish.

"I'm sorry, what did you just say?" Vanon asked, "Can you speak Eltharin?"

More panicked gibberish.

"I shall take that as a no." Vanon sighed.

The girl then pointed at the dragon before pointing at her eye, all the while saying the same word over and over again.

The meaning behind this dawned on Vanon.

"I think she's saying to attack the dragon in the eyes." Urhac said, "Must be it's only weak point."

"I agree." Vanon replied.

"Captain, we're not actually considering going up against a dragon are we?" a spearman asked, "Forgive me if I speak out of turn, but that is not our mission!"

"Our mission to to discover what lies on the other side of the archway." Vanon said, "Right now, the only lead we have is a young girl who doesn't speak our language, and a band of humans from the Empire, who is currently running headfirst into a hopless fight with a dragon. If we wish to discover anything about this world, then the Imperials are our best choice. That is, unless you wish to teach the girl Eltharin yourself?"

"No Captain."

"Then we save the humans from being killed by the dragon. Archers, aim for it's eyes! I'll draw it's attention! The success of our mission depends on keeping at least one of those humans alive!"

* * *

Erhardt didn't know how he was going to survive this. Put him in a fight against beastmen or greenskins, and he was calm and cool under pressure. A dragon though? Those great beasts that could fight a greater daemon one on one?

A voice in the back of his head kept screaming at him, accusing him of leading his people into certain death. Of being an embarrassment to his father and his house.

He silenced the voices. Self doubt now of all times would get him, and everyone else killed. Now was the time for focus.

"Pistoliers! Fire at will!" he ordered.

They obeyed, unloading rounds of lead at the fire breathing beast. It would not be enough to kill it, even one as unfamiliar with dragons as Erhardt was knew that. That was not the point of it though; they were trying to draw it's attention away from the caravan, who was already losing people to the overgrown flying lizard.

As expected, the pistols did not even scratch the armor like scales of the dragon. It did succeed in drawing it's attention away from the locals.

Erhardt could now see that the only the dragon's right eye was of any use to the beast; the other had an arrowshaft sticking out of it's left.

"Men of the EMpire!" Erhard shouted over the dragon's roars, "It is blinded in it's left eye! Attack from there!"

The dragon flapped it's wings and raised itself into the air. It then descended upon a trio of pistoliers, knocking them off their horses and skewering them on it's claws.

Another group of pistoliers were coming on it's left side, firing for the eye. The dragon turned it's head and opened it's mouth.

Erhardt's eyes widened.

"You fools!" he screamed, "It's going to breath fire on you! Scatter!"

If the men heard him, it wouldn't have mattered. The dragon's fire engulfed both horses and riders. All Erhardt could do was pray that they died quickly.

"Wizards!" he yelled, "Use your damned power!"

The dragon then turned to Erhardt, and made to open it's mouth. This time, however, a fireball hit it across it's snout.

"Come now you great lizard!" Detlev the Bright Wizard screamed, his hands holding an ever growing fireball, "Have a taste of true fire!"

The wizard cast another fiery spell at the dragon, but the beast did not seem to take notice of the attacks.

"You fool, that thing breaths fire!" Konrada of the Amber Order shouted, "You can't kill it with it's own weapon!"

"Then I need to use more fire!" Detlev shouted back, riding closer to the dragon, inhaling, and then exhaling an inferno into the dragon's face.

Erhardt was then sure that the Bright Wizard was insane.

The dragon roared and took flight once again; you don't know if Detlev was actually hurting the thing, but it was certainly making it uncomfortable enough to keep distance between itself and the mad magister.

"We must keep it grounded!" Erhardt shouted to his men, "Aim for the wings!"

Above him, Konrada the Amber Wizard had used her magic to transform her body into that of a giant eagle. She then used that form to attack the head of the dragon, using her superior speed and maneuverability to stay out of the range of the drago's snapping jaws.

"My Prince!" Ottmar, Gold Wizard, rode up to Erhardt, "Markus and I have a plan, but he requires time to cast it! I will bring the dragon down, but you and your men must keep it's focus away from Markus!"

"Do what you must Magister!" Erhardt stated, drawing his blade, "And we shall do what we must! For Sigmar and the Empire! Come men! Let us send this beast to Morr!"

Erhardt kicked his horse, and he charged alongside the Reiksguard Knights, drawing swords and aiming lances at the dragon.

The dragon turned around and, using it's wings like sails, created powerful gusts of wind to knock them all back. The winds forced some knights back, but knocked a few knights off their horses, such was the power of these gusts. Those who remained on horseback were forced to break off their charge.

Erhardt was one of these knights, knocked off his horse, and thrown to the ground. Then, to his horror, no sooner had he hit the ground then his horse fell on top of his legs. Erhardt roared in pain; perhaps one of his legs were broken. The horse then got up and ran off, leaving Erhardt on the ground.

Ottmar raised his staff, and began to draw the Gold Wind to him. After a few seconds of casting, he unleashed his power in the form of the spell known as 'Searing Doom,' causing molten metal to rain down from the sky like arrows.

The dragon's scales would protect it from most of the spell... but it's leathery wings were exposed, and vulnerable.

The Searing doom came down like rain, and hundreds of shards of razor shop and burning metal pieced it's wings, making dozens of holes, and tearing to shreds the once mighty wings, capable of bearing the dragon through the air, and forcing it to land.

Unfortunately, it landed right in front of Erhardt.

From it's one good eye, the dragon was staring right at him. Though it was in pain, it would use it's strength to kill him at the very least.

It moved forward, it's massive head low to the ground, and it's jaws coming closer and closer to the Prince.

Erhardt picked up his sword, a 'Griffon Claw' blade, and held it in front of himself. If he was to die, he would die defiant, and not show the fear that was gripping his soul.

"Sigmar, give me strength to face this." Erhardt prayed, "Morr, if you judge me good, let me join you at your side, and let my ancestors, all noble Princes of Reikland, welcome me with open arms. Shallya, have mercy on my father."

The dragon was getting closer when, suddenly, Erhardt heard the sound of a galloping horse coming from his right; the same direction as the dragon's blindspot.

A knight on horseback had ridden up to the horse, and stabbed a lance into it's left eye, causing it to scream in pain and rage.

The knight abandoned his lance in the great wrym's eye, and rode his horse over to Erhardt.

"Give me your hand man!" he said in accented Reikspiel.

Erhardt did as he was bade, and raised a hand. Somehow, with one hand, the knight was able to lift Erhardt, who wore plate armor, onto the back of his horse, without having his arm be pulled out of his socket.

The knight then sped off on his horse, as a rain of arrows began to fall upon the dragon. Erhardt looked to see where they were coming from, and saw a company of the High Elves they had spotted earlier on a hill, shooting at the dragon.

If they were High Elves, then that meant that the knight who rescued him was also an-

The dragon roared, and began breathing fire as a response to the pain it was feeling.

Far away, on another hill, the Celestial Wizard, Markus, was ready to cast his spell.

Let us end this!" he roared, before unleashing the power of the Blue Wind.

The spell he cast was the 'Comet of Cassandora,' a powerful spell that reached into the heavens, and pulled down on a meteorite to bring it to earth.

This time, the Comet was coming for the dragon.

Wounded, and with useless wings, even if the the dragon was aware of the incoming space rock, it could not move in time.

The comet hit it's target dead center, and when it struck true, a loud boom filled the region, and it kicked up a cloud of dust engulfed the area where the dragon was.

The knight rode a bit farther away before stopping next to the main gathering of the Empire's expedition.

"Take your Prince." he said, and they wasted no time in lifting Erhardt's body off of the Elven steed and onto the ground. Father Wilhelm began using his healing powers on Erhardt, and his squire Heinrich was pouring ale down his throat from a flask.

Erhardt looked up at the face of his rescuer. He was indeed an elf, wearing a silver helmet.

"I thank you noble Asur." Erhardt said, "For saving my life. Pray tell though, what are the children of Ulthuan doing here?"

"I am Captain Vanon of Ulthuan. As for why I am here, I could ask the same of you, sons of the Empire." came the response.

Before anyone could say anything else, a loud rumble filled the air. All looked towards the where the dragon was.

The dust had cleared, and all could see the dragon now. The Comet had struck true, and had broken the back of the dragon. It now lay on the ground, paralyzed from it's shattered spine. It was dying a slow and painful death.

It needed to be put out of it's misery.

"Wait here for a moment Imperial." Vanon said, and he directed his horse back towards the dragon.

Erhardt watched him go, and then looked around the collateral destruction of the battle. The field was on fire, and he had lost a little over a dozen men to this beast.

The caravan was still alive though. Right now, one of their wagons was making it's way towards them.

"Heinrich." Erhardt started, "Tell me you still have that book."

"Yes M'Lord."

"Good. Because in a few moments, we're going to need it."

* * *

Vanon rode his horse towards the dragon at a quick pace. Though it had been their enemy not too long ago, Vanon did not want the creature to suffer.

His path towards the dragon took him next to his soldiers, and the girl they had found. The girl ran up to his horse and launched into a stream of her native tongue, pointing at both herself and at the dragon.

Vanon did not understand the words, but he understood the meaning.

She wanted to come with him to see the dragon who had destroyed her village and killed her kin die with her own eyes.

Vanon reached down and lifted her up onto the horse. She was much thankfully much lighter than that young human lord, and therefore much easier to pull up (his arm was still mad at him for that stunt with the human). He placed her in front of him, and then began making his way towards the dragon once more.

A minute later, they were at the dragon, who was laying perfectly still, unable to even growl at them, only unleash short, distressing, noises.

Vanon dismounted first, and, since the girl had no idea how to dismount properly, lifted the girl bodily from the saddle. The pair of them then made their way to the crippled beast. The girl's stare was both fearful and hard at the same time. Vanon's sword was in his hand.

A few yards away from the dragon, and Vanon held up a finger, and the girl stopped moving forward. Vanon continued the rest of the way towards it until he was finally right next to the right side of it's head, with it's one good eye, which was now looking up at him.

Vanon raised his sword, and stabbed it into the dragon's head, between it's scales, dislodged from the magical comet, where it's brain would be. The dragon let out one final roar, and then fell silent.

Vanon's sword and armor was covered in the creature's blood. There was nothing he could do about the armor for the time being, but he knelt down and cleaned his sword upon the grass. He looked up at the girl, and saw that she was still standing; several tears were rolling down her face, but her eyes were hard.

He stood up and walked over to her, sheathing his sword and taking his helmet off. When he reached her, he became very aware of the difference in height between the two of them; he stood almost two heads taller than her.

She looked up at him, and with tearful eyes, brought a hand up to her chest and said, "Tuka... Tuka."

"Tuka." he repeated, "That must be your name."

"Vanon." he said, lightly pounding a clenched fist against his armor.

He gestured towards the horse, and Tuka nodded, but not before she walked closer tot he dragon and spat at it, before turning around and walked back towards his horse.

* * *

Across the grassy fields, a lone figure stood and watched the battle that had taken place before her.

"Well, well, it seems the world on the other side of the Gate has some very interesting people." Rory Mercury said as she balanced her giant axe against her shoulder, "Perhaps it wouldn't be a waste of time to check it out."

* * *

"Well Lelei, what do you make of this?"

Lelei looked at the men pointed out to her by her master, Cato the Elder Sage. They wore strange clothes, and carried banners she did not recognize. Perhaps they were from a far away vassal nation?

Whomever they were, they had mages in their company who were capable of slaying the ancient flame dragon that had burned down Coda Village.

"They are powerful." she finally said, "And we should be wary."

"I'm inclined to agree with you young one." Cato nodded as he directed their wagon closer to their mysterious saviors, "Still though, it would be rude of us not to thank them."

Many of their fellow villagers had died in both the initial destruction of Coda, and then in the flame dragon's followup attack. As such, while the Village Elder and any able bodied men attempted to round up any survivors from their caravan, it had fallen onto Cato and Lelei to speak with the strangers who had slain the dragon on Coda's behalf.

The dragon, slain! She still could barely believe it! Never in the recorded history of anywhere on Falmart had anyone, no knight, nor elf, nor mage, had ever accomplished such a feat, at least not when the dragon in question was an ancient flame dragon.

The mages in their ranks were leagues above anything ever previously recorded... and Lelei was curious to know more about this magic, and she knew that her master shared her desire as well.

Two knights on horseback rode towards them. Cato stopped the horses and raised a hand in greeting.

"Hello Sir Knights!" he called out, "Thank you for your timely rescue! I am Cato El Altestan, better known as Cato the Elder Sage! And you are?"

"Wir sprechen Ihre Sprache nicht alter Mann." a knight said.

Lelei blinked. That wasn't the common tongue. In fact, that was no language she had ever heard before. Whomever their saviors were, they were far from home.

A knight pointed a gauntlet clad finger at them, and then pointed at a group of his fellows.

"Folge uns. Unser Prinz möchte mit Ihnen sprechen." he said, and then he and he partner turned their horses around and trotted back towards their main group.

"Well, I do say that they wish to follow us Lelei." Cato said, "Best not keep them waiting. I suppose we could walk the rest of the way though. Come, help me down. I'm afraid that these old bones make it hard for me to do this myself."

After she had helped her master down, Lelei and Cato walked through the ranks of the strange men, Lelei taking care to take note about everything that she saw.

These men wore red clothes under their metal armor, and their heraldry featured heavy usage of skulls, griffons, hammers, strange crosses, and twin tailed comets. These men were grim faced, indicative of years of hard living, and most certainly hard fighting. They also forsook the current Saderan fashion of being clean shaven in exchange for long, well groomed, and sometimes elaborate beards and mustaches, reminding her of her Master, Cato.

In the back of Lelei's mind, she wondered if these were the mysterious Outlanders who came through the Gate, fought off the Allied Army, and who currently occupied the sacred Alnus Hill.

If they were powerful enough to kill a flame dragon, then they could very well be one and the same.

The knights they were following had long since dismounted, and led them through the maze of the foreign soldiers. Eventually, they reached the commander of these men, and his retinue.

"Prinz Erhardt, hier sind die Einheimischen, wie Sie bestellt haben." a knight said, and their commander, a man seated on the ground, whose back was turned to them, stood up, and turned around.

 _'He is young for a commander.'_ Lelei thought as she saw him. Indeed he was young; he couldn't be much older than herself, and she was only sixteen! How did one so young become put in charge of so many obviously seasoned veterans?

"Well hello lad!" Cato said, "My name is Cato El Altestan, better known as Cato the Elder Sage! On behalf of Coda Village and her fine inhabitants, or at least those who remain alive and unburnt, we thank you for your timely assistance! Tell me, where are your mages, and when can I speak with them?"

The soldiers looked among themselves with confused expressions.

"Master." Lelei interjected, and Cato looked at her, "I do not believe they understand us any more than we understand them."

Her master then brought a hand to his face.

"Oh, right, you do not understand me. Apologies, friends." he said.

The Commander barked an order to a boy, ten to twelve years of age perhaps, who then took out a book, and as the Commander began to speak, the boy scanned the pages of the book.

"Hello locals." the boy said in the Common Tongue, but with a thick accent, "Am Prince Erhardt of Empire. Offer protection for words. Safety for people. Follow we. Understand, yes?"

The boy looked up at Cato with pleading eyes. Cato chuckled and nodded.

"Understand, yes!" Cato answered, and the boy's expression brightened as he turned to his Commander, this 'Prince Erhardt,' before launching into a stream of words in his people's strange and harsh tongue.

"Well, time to take this news back to the Elder." Cato said as he turned around, "These gentlemen have a safe place for us! Gods know we need one!"

Lelei nodded and followed her Master, but not before she watched as several individuals in elaborate robes walked over to the Prince. She knew instantly that these were the mages who killed the dragon.

She was wary of these newcomers; they could be the ones who were fighting the Empire of Sadera, her nation, after all. That being said, her waryness was eclipsed by her desire to find out more about their mages, and if she could learn their powerful magics.

So consumed with that one thought, Lelei almost did not notice the elf on horseback riding past her, with another elf, a pretty young female, sitting behind him with her arms wrapped around him.

* * *

"Well met Son of Sigmar!" the elf, Vanon, said in perfect Reikspiel, as he rode up to Erhardt, "You fought well this day. Not every human can claim that they survived a battle against a dragon!"

Though Father Wilhelm's powers had healed his leg, Erhardt's stance was shaky; something he tried to not show in front of either his men, the locals, or the Asur who saved his life.

"High praise coming from one of the folk of Ulthuan." Erhardt replied, looking the elf in the eyes, "I would like to thank you Captain Vanon, once again, for saving my life."

"Think nothing of it." Vanon said as he dismounted, and Erhardt saw that the elf was not along. Also on the back of his horse was an elf girl, young, by their standards at least.

"Pardon me if I come off as presumptious Noble Azr," Erhardt began, "But if I may ask, how did you come to be in this land?"

"An archway, magical in nature, appeared one day in Ulthuan." Vanon explained, "My superior, Prince Madir, ordered my party through it, to see what was on the other side."

Erhardt was shocked. There was a second Gate, on Ulthuan of all places?

"You look as if you have seen a ghost Prince Erhardt." Vanon said.

"Forgive me Captain, but is it true that you came here through a magical gate?"

"Indeed it is true." Vanon said, raising one of his long eyebrows, "Why?"

"For it was through another of those gates which is how we men of the Empire came to be in this world." Erhardt explained.

"This _world_?" Vanon repeated, his eyes widening, "Then this is not the Old World?"

"I am afraid it is not." Erhardt shook his head, "This is an entirely new world, filled with humans, and other monsters."

"Then it is also filled with elves." Vanon said as he gestured to the elf girl, who blinked and appeared taken aback at suddenly being the center of attention, "This is Tuka, the dragon we killed was responsible for her village's destruction."

"Then elves live here as well." Erhardt mutttered to himself before looking at Vanon, "Captain, I invite you and your people to my fort. We can compare information there, as well as obtain new information from the locals that we just rescued from that dragon."

"A sound plan Prince." Vanon agreed, "I will go tell my people. How far is your fort?"

"Not far. Half a day's ride to the north."

"Then I will gather my people, and together we will go to your fort." 

* * *

Tuka did not really know what to make of her situation. On one hand, she was surrounded by strangers, whom she did not understand, and whom could not understand her. On the other hand, she did not have anywhere else to go. Her village was destroyed, long time friends and family dead, and father... father was missing. Yes, just missing. He had to have escaped! He just had to!

In addition, the elves she now found herself surrounded with were friendly enough, especially their leader, whom Tuka suspected was attracted to her, and, perhaps most important right now, demonstrated that they were capable in a fight. Add to safety in numbers, and Tuka was better off in their company than she was alone, even if they now seemed to be traveling with humans, whom all elves had to be wary of.

Still though, the elf she now rode with, and by extension the elves under his command, were different from her people. To start, he was taller than most men of her village, and his features were more striking than handsome. Also, there was the way he carried himself; this was not an elf who had lost lands and had his people killed by humans. This was an elf who never had to endure racial slurs, or pogroms that her ancestors faced. This was an elf who was a lord among his people, who was clad in armor, and fought with a sword that none in her village would have ever dreamed of either affording, or using.

What sort of life in his homeland did he lead, to require such equipment? Many answers formed in her mind, but none satisfied her curiosity.

With so many differences between them, Tuka vowed that when she learned his language, she would ask this Vanon all the questions that lingered in her mind and more.

For now though, she took comfort in the fact that, despite the language barrier, she felt safe around him, and his many warriors.

* * *

An hour later, Reikland Imperials, High Elves, and local Falmarters made their way towards Fort Griffon. Erhardt had sent runners ahead to inform the fort of their arrival, and of their guests, and to send wagons back for the dragon's corpse; it's scales, teeth, bones, and other body parts would sell for a fortune.

None noticed the solitary girl, carrying an axe far larger and taller than she, following them.

* * *

They had reached Fort Griffon without further incident. Thanks to the runners Erhardt had sent up ahead, the garrison was expecting them, and opened the gates to the fort upon arrival.

"Welcome back Prince," General Johann von Midden, commander of the Middenland soldiers, greeted the second Erhardt got off his horse, "Successful day I see; managed to make friends with the locals?"

"Not quite General." Erhardt answered as he handed his horse off to a stableboy, "Trust has yet to be obtained I am afraid; though saving their lives from a dragon will no doubt help in gaining their trust."

"We shall see." Johann replied as he looked at the Coda refugees, "What do you plan on doing with them?"

"For now, we will house them within the fort. Then I will see about constructing housing for them outside the walls."

"A town for your fort then?" Johann asked, "Not even officially a Markgrave yet, and you're already setting down roots."

"Only a fool does not plan for the future."

Johann was about to say more when he caught sight of the High Elves marching into the fort.

"Holy Ulric... I never thought that the day would come where I would see elves."

"It gladdens my heart to see you moved so, General." Erhardt joked, "It seems as if there is another gate, and it has opened on their island kingdom. Their captain and I are going to speak to one another. General, I leave you in charge of the refugees. Perhaps later we can employ the able bodied men and boys do some work around here."

"It shall be done my Prince."

From the back of Vanon's horse, Tuka looked around at the fort and it's inhabitants. More humans, not Imperials but the outsiders, with their bushy beards, guttural language, and odd clothes. The way they stared at her, as if she were some kind of extraordinary thing. Why? It was true that few elves left their forest homes, but these humans looked and acted as if they had never seen one of her people before.

For some reason, it made her uneasy. Subconsciously, she tightened her grip around the man she was riding with.

If Vanon was aware of her subconcious act, he gave no indication. Instead, he stopped his horse, got off of it, and held out his hand to Tuka.

She did not know why he insisted on helping her up and off his horse. After all, she had recovered enough to do that herself. Still though, a part of her was flattered at the attention he was giving her; it helped distract from the loss of all her family and friends back in Kowan.

That he was not too bad looking was a bonus.

Wordlessly, she took his hand, and allowed him to help her down. He then walked over to the human leader, leaving her next to the horse. Though the language barrier was still a problem, she felt at ease among these strange elves; not the least because they were skilled warriors. If they were at her village, perhaps they could have fought off... no. There was no use in thinking about that. All she could do right now was stick with these elves, recover her strength, and then go and search for her father, and any other survivors of her village.

"Hello there young elf!"

She almost jumped out of her skin at the loud voice. She turned around and saw the old human mage walk up to her, a young girl of sixteen, his daughter perhaps, or an apprentice, trailing behind him.

"Sorry to spook you," he said with a mirthful grin, "I am Cato, the Elder Sage, and this is my apprentice, Lelei. Say hello Lelei!"

"Hello."

"Hello to you as well." Tuka responded, smiling for the first time in a while, "How can I help you?"

"I see you're traveling with a band of strange elves Miss!"

"Strange is... one word for it." Tuka said, "They fight like I've seen human soldiers fight; with formations, and they wear armor like knights. They are unlike any elves I've ever met before."

"Do you think they're from beyond the Gate as well?" Lelei asked Tuka.

"I think so." Tuka replied. On the way to the fort, Tuka had overheard the Coda villagers talk about the strange humans; how they were from beyond the Gate, and how they had taken Alnus Hill for themselves. From what she had seen of these humans, she believed that they were from another world; that made it easier for her to believe that Vanon's elves were also not natives.

"Hmmm." Cato muttered, his hand stroking his beard, "It appears that all of us have just became traitors to Sadera. Now that we're under the protection of these newcomers, I fear that, once the Empire finds out that we accepted their offer of sanctuary, they will kill us all."

Tuka nodded, though a part of her wasn't to concerned with her new, wanted status.

 _'As if the Empire actually needed a reason to hunt elves.'_ she thought, _"It has never stopped them before."_

"Having second thought Master?" Lelei asked Cato, who shook hsi head.

"Hardly. Sadera wasn't going to come save us, and I've never been especially fond of Molt Sol Augustus anyway. If the safety and security of our village means that we work with these Outsiders, then I'll be glad to do it.

"Speaking of which, Lelei, it looks like it's time to talk." Cato pointed at a man wearing robes that made Tuka suspect that he was a scribe of sorts, who was walking over to them with one of the soldiers.

"Cato Old Sage?" he said in broken Common, "With me come. Speak learn please."

"Well, duty calls!" Cato announced, "Come Lelei, you might learn something."

The two humans left Tuka, who, for the lack of anything better to do, decided to get the lay of the land and explore the fort. She grimaced when she saw the heads on spikes decorating the walls; heads of ogres, orcs, goblins, and other demi humans that the Empire used as disposable shock troops. On the way into the fort, they had passed by the remains of huge funeral pyres, where the soldiers had burned thousands of dead bodies; the remains of the enemy force attempting to take back Alnus Hill. Even within the fort, Tuka could smell smoke and burning flesh; it was too similiar to the remains of her village for her liking.

She uttered a silent prayer to Lunaryur that she would not have to stay here for long... or if she was destined to spend time here, that the smell of smoke would soon pass. 

* * *

"A hostile empire rules these lands, and has numerous legions of men to throw at us." Erhardt explained as he took a seat across from Vanon, motioning to a servant to pour them wine, "The other end of this Gate that we built this fort around is located in the heart of Reikland, my home province, only a stone's throw away from Ubersreik. It was only by the grace of the gods that we managed to throw the invaders back through this gate before they truly had a chance to reap greater havoc on our lands."

Vanon nodded, "As far as we know, the native empire is unaware of the Archway leading to Ulthuan. That is good; from what you have told me of them, they would not hesitate to invade. Ulthuan already possess a surplus of enemies; we do not need another."

"Then we should be grateful that they remain unaware, for the moment at least." Erhardt replied, "Where did your Gate open? Somewhere on Ulthuan, obviously..."

"What do you know of the Kingdoms of Ulthuan Prince?"

"Not much I'm afraid. I once went to Lothern with my father and family once, when I was young...er, but I barely remember the trip."

"The Archway, or Gate as you call it, opened in the Kingdom of Nagarythe, more commonly known as the Shadowlands, or the Sunken Isles, the most heavily contested territory on all Ulthuan. Ever since the sundering, a shadow war has been fought between the Shadow Warriors and our traitorous kin, the Druchii."

"The Dark Elves?" Erhardt asked, "For the Gate to open there is... disturbing news. If they should take your Gate, and then discover our Gate, then they have a backdoor to the heart of the Empire. That is unacceptable."

"None of this is acceptable." Vanon stated, "Druchii on one end, and a hostile human empire on the other. Ulthuan can ill afford being caught between two such foes."

"Then it seems we share a common purpose Captain; both our homelands are threatened by one another's enemies, and we must both see to it that none of our enemies can breach the Gates."

"So, you propose a military alliance then?"

"I do. We must secure both Gates, as well as prevent the native empire from threatening us."

"I am afraid that such matters are above my rank Prince. I am merely a Knight, and I must report back to my own Prince. I will bring him your offer; though he can be a touch arrogant, Prince Madir is no fool. He will see the wisdom of an alliance between Ulthuan and the Empire of Man, and convince the Phoenix King to devote troops to such an enterprise."

"I am grateful for your assistance and cooperation then Captain Vanon." Erhardt nodded, "In the meantime, I will petition my father the Emperor for more soldiers, or failing that, funds with which to hire sellswords. If and when you return here, you will not find us to have been idle."

"To our common cause then." Vanon said, raising his cup.

"To our common cause." Erhardt replied.

Elf and man then touched their cups together and drank.

"If you do not mind me asking Captain, what do you intend to do with that elf girl?"

"Who, Tuka?"

"Yes, her. As I understand it, she is a native of this land."

"She is. That elves are in this world as well as yours is surprising, and raises many questions to her people's origins. I intend to take her with me back to Ulthuan, so that wiser elves than I can find a way to discover how this came to be."

"Interesting... first men dwell in this world, then elves. Do you suspect that other races live here? Greenskins perhaps, or the dawi?"

"If there would be one race that I would not be surprised to see live here, it would be the greenskin barbarians. As for the dawi... I'd rather not think about that."

"Fair enough Captain, fair enough." 

* * *

Italica

King Duran of Elbe was not a happy man. He had not been happy since before the Allied Army was broken at Alnus, sent there to die by Emperor Molt Sol Agustus.

Though they lost only a third of their men, only a handful of the leaders of Army had survived the meat grinder that were the defenses that the Outlanders had set up. The blood of many kings and princes has soaked the ground of the sacred hill before the fighting was done, many of them good friends of his. Death on the battlefield was one thing, but then there was the Outlander madman with the ridiculous feathered hat who rode into the Allied Army's camp at night, set tents, men, and supplies on fire, and lopped off the heads of their commanders and stole them before stealing into the night like a bandit! Upon the Outlander's walls, Duran had recognized more than one familiar head, stabbed onto a pike.

Even with the deaths of so many brave nobles, the army should not have dissolved the way it did. The chain of command broke down, and order imploded. Entire companies of men turned on their officers and then deserted.

Fragmented as they were, Duran and other commanders took their men and left Alnus, before the enemy took their chance to counterattack and take advantage of the fragmented state of the Allied Army.

Fleeing the incoming carnage, Duran and his surviving men, 10,000 Elbans, and another three thousand from the scattered Allied Kingdoms, went to Italica to lick their wounds, guests of the newly titled Countess Formal, a young girl thrust into a leadership role long before she was prepared for the task.

Duran would reorganize his army, and then return to Elbe. Then he would find ways to get back at Molt.

At least, that was the plan before the mob of soldiers he left behind at Alnus also came to Italica... not to seek shelter, but to raid and pillage the lands of the Formal family.

This bandit army outnumbered his force, and the Italica City Guard three times over. Soon, they would surround the city, and cut off all chance of escape. The smart thing to do would be flee, while he still had a chance... but the honorable man in him refused to leave the Countess to a horrible fate.

If any of them were to survive this, they would need help, and soon.


	3. Chapter 3

**_The Imperial Capital of Sadera_**

 _Two months after the Gate opened, one before the siege of Alnus Hill_

Pina Co Lada, only daughter of the Emperor, Molt Sol Agustus, watched as Remus Fla Lucius, General of the Gate Expeditionary Force, knelt in front of her father, he eyes on the floor, all the while trying to cover up the stump where his left hand used to be. Currently, the formerly distinguished general was attempting to explain his failures; being defeated in battle, being driven back through the Gate, and subsequently losing Alnus Hill to the Outsiders.

"My Emperor," he began, sounding and looking like a whipped dog, "All went well at first. We took a handful of towns, and claimed many slaves. Survivors of our victories fled into the woods, and I dispatched men to retrieve them. When they did not return, I dispatched a larger force into the woods. Only a handful survived, and when they returned to the main force, they told us of the monsters that dwell in those woods; huge beasts that walk like men, but fight with the ferocity of a raging bull. It took four men to put down one of these beasts-"

"Do you expect us to believe that trained legionaries could not put down a few mongrel subhumans?" Prince Zorzal sneered from the Emperor's right hand, "Or are you merely spinning yarns to cover for your embarrassment?"

Pina internally bristled. While he was a skilled general and soldier, Zorzal had always been a cruel man, and every time he opened his mouth was to belittle someone else, and any day that he did not brutalize one of his slaves was to be considered a wasted day. Thankfully, Pina never had to interact with him much these days, otherwise she'd have failed to resist the urge to put her sword in his gut.

"I do not lie my Prince!"Fla Lucius exclaimed, for not a day after the scouts returned, than the entire army was set upon by these beasts! Ten thousand men can attest to that. They butchered half a legion before we finally broke their ranks, and no sooner had the last of the subhumans retreated back into their dark forest than the enemy attacked us in full force.

"They struck at us from the west, the north and the east. They had weapons that shot fire and death, and many died before they could even reach the enemy's lines. Many of those who survived being struck by the fireshooters would lose limbs, or die mere days afterwards. Then there were the mages-"

"Now we know the general lies!" Zorzal shouted, his mouth twisted into a sneer, "For now he expects us to believe that the barbarians used magic against him, and that their magic was capable of being dangerous!"

"It is the truth!" the broken man shouted back, his anger overcoming court etiquette and the sense not to raise your voice at a Prince, "Their magic far surpassed our own mages, and scores of good legionaries were cut down by their sorceries! Faced with certain defeat, I did the only thing I could do, and retreated back through the Gate. If I did not, we would have been slaughtered to the last man!"

"Perhaps you should have been slaughtered," Zorzal said, "and spared us the sight of seeing your shame-"

"Zorzal, enough!" the Emperor shouted, "Lucius, your retreat back through the Gate has shamed you and your family, as well as allowed the barbarians to seize Alnus Hill for themselves. Even now, my scouts report that they build fortifications upon the hill, and around the Gate, denying it to us. This can not and will not stand! Therefore, I have tasked the Vassal Kingdoms to raise their banners, and to march upon the hill immediately. They will drive the outsiders back through the Gate, and reclaim it for the glory of the Empire."

Pina was surprised at that; why send the Vassal Kingdoms when the Empire still had a surplus of legions?

"Please my Emperor!" Lucius said as he stood up, still covering his stump, "Let me join the assault! Let me regain my honor!"

"No." Molt said, much Lucius' dismay, "You had your chance, and you failed. You will remain here in Sadera, and await further orders."

"I... I understand, My Emperor."

"Good. Now then, the Emperor has better things to do than to waste time with a failure like yourself Lucius." Zorzal said, "Now run along so that your betters can fix your mistakes."

Lucius said nothing, but bowed one more, before turning on his heel and leaving, ignoring the snickers and gossip of the Imperial Court. Pina was sympathetic to the general, but to express her feelings would not be wise, now that Lucius had fallen out of favor.

Now was not the time for that. Now was the time to press her own agenda.

"Father, if I may make a request?" Pina said as she stepped forward.

"Speak Pina." Molt said, smiling for the first time. Pina was Molt's favorite child, and the Princess had taken advantage of her status on more than one occasion.

"I would like for myself and the Rose Order to join the Vassal Kingdoms at Alnus. It would raise their morale to know that a member of the Imperial Royal House is fighting alongside them."

"Still trying to play at being soldier Pina?" Zorzal asked mockingly, "Leave it to the men dear sister; focus on more womanly pursuits better suited for one of your station."

"I was speaking to our father the Emperor," Pina said, not even sparing Zorzal a glance, "for he has the final word in the Empire. Not _you_ brother."

"You watch your tone-"

"Silence Zorzal!" Molt shouted, and the Crown Prince immediately complied, bowing his head and taking a step back behind the throne, but is eyes were glaring at Pina.

"Daughter," Molt addressed the Princess, "This campaign is beneath you. It would be a shame for the Rose Order's first battle to be such an insignificant melee. Instead, I have another task for you. Cleos Pal Brutus has returned from his subjugation campaign in the north, and such a victory deserves a triumph. The Rose Order has been given the task of serving as Brutus' honor guard..."

Pina only paid attention to half of what her father was saying. It was the same excuse as always; just once she would like to hear him say what he really meant.

That she and the Rose Order were all silly highborn girls, playing at being soldiers, and it would be foolish to send them into battle, where they would all certainly die.

She and all members of her order were trained soldiers, the equal to and in some cases better than any man, but none would let them prove their worth i battle. Instead, it was merely one ceremonial role after the other, with the occasional foray into the countryside to remind the people of the Emperor's might.

Day and night, Pina prayed for a chance to prove her mettle. What good were her skills if she could not use them? She had hoped that the battle to retake Alnus Hill would be the chance she desired, only to have her hopes be dashed once more. She was used to disapointment though, so it did not sting as bad as the first time she was refused.

Still, from Lucius' reports on the other world, there was a surplus of land to conquer, and many foes to defeat. She would get her chance, sooner, rather than later.

* * *

 **Keraz-a-Kerak**

One month after the skirmish against the flame dragon

Karaz-a-Karak, Everpeak, the capital of what remained of the dwarfen people, and the seat of power of it's High King.

It was here, within this hold, that a lone dwarf, clad in armor finer than any manling could hope to produce, made his way through the halls of the High King's residence, summoned there to recieve orders.

He finally came to a large door, guarded by two dwarfs in full plate armor, wielding huge axes and hammers.

"State your business." one said sharply.

"I am here to see the High King." came the response, "He has summoned me for a task, and I must see it through."

The dwarf nodded, and together with his fellow guard, they slowly swung open the great doors leading to the High King's audience chamber.

"My King, may I present Thane Kregan, Son of Krogan, of Clan Magni!" a herald bellowed to the room.

"My King!" Kregan, declared as he bowed before Thorgrim Grudgebearer, High King of the Dawi, Dwarfs to the younger races, "By your command, I have come!"

"Rise Kregan." Thorgrim said in his deep booming voice, we have much to discuss."

"As you wish my King."

Thorgrim was seated upon the Throne of Power, and he regarded Kregan sternly.

"Tell me Kregan, what do you know of the Gate that opened in the lands of the Empire?"

"That it is a thing of magic, and therefore dangerous." Kregan replied, "The Empire umgi should have destroyed in months ago."

"I am glad they did not."

"My King?"

"Karak Azgaraz lays close to where the Gate opened. The dawi of that hold have reported marvelous things to me. A whole new world lays beyond through the Gate; one filled with manlings true, but a host of other races... including elves."

"Aye, I heard as well that elves made their home on the other side of that thing. Still though, if I may be blunt my King, you did not call me here to speak of the damned elgi."

"You are correct Kregan. Thuringar's latest missives have told me of a certain piece of hearsay he learned of from Umgi merchants, returning from the Gate. They tell that, within the lands known to the locals as 'Falmart,' there live dawi."

"Dawi, my King?" Kregan asked, shocked, "But how?"

"The answer is unknown to me Kregan, neither is it known if there is any truth to these rumors. That is why I have called you. I want you to go through this Gate, and if our kin to dwell beyond it, then find them, and see if they are still our kin."

Kregan nodded, "As you command my King; though I do not look forward to traveling through a thing of magic, if it serves to help the dawi, then I will pass through that damned Gate a hundred times and more."

"It pleases me to see you willing. Take a Throng with you; all reports confirm that the land of Falmart is dangerous, and controlled by a hostile empire named Sadera. Expect battle, often."

"I will gather my finest warriors my King." Kregan declared, "Whatever those Saderan manlings have in store for us, they are ill prepared for the dawi!"

* * *

 **Fort Griffon, Alnus Hill**

"Well, I say we're going to be extremely wealthy!" Cato said with a huge grin as the Coda villagers gathered the dragon scales together.

No sooner had the Coda villagers settled in around Fort Griffon than Lelei had come across piles of dead dragons, war beasts used by the Allied Army, strewn all across the hill.

It had shocked Lelei that their new overlord was merely just leaving gold to rot, but Prince Erhardt had told them that he and his people were more concerned with disposing of the dead humans, lest they stand up again.

Lelei had thought he was joking. The stern look he had given her said otherwise.

In the weeks following their arrival to Alnus, the Coda villagers had settled around Fort Griffon. Lelei and her master had spent many hours with the Prince and his scribes, learning each other's languages. Erhardt and many of his officers could now carry on a conversation with her, while she was almost completely literate in Reikspiel. Her master was pleased with her progress, calling her, not for the first time, his 'little genius.' As of now, Lelei and Cato had carved out for themselvees a spot on Erhardt's council as experts of the new realm they had come to.

With funds and materials provided by Prince Erhardt, a small town was in the process of springing up around the fort. Already, refugees fleeing the increase in bandit attacks travelers seeking fortune, and unsavory individuals fleeing Saderan law were arriving from all over Falmart, and coming to the Fort.  
Everyone who wished to settle in what was now the 'Alnus March' was given one choice;

Swear fealty to the Empire of Man, or be turned away.

Demihumans were turned away outright; the Imperials did not want what they viewed as 'mutants' within their midst, even if they were willing to swear fealty. Such racism was common in Sadera; it seemed it was common on the other side of the Gate as well.

As she learned more of their language, Lelei also learned more about the Prince's country; and what she learned had both intrigued and unsettled her.

They made use of weapons that shot fire, _gunpowder_ , their word for it, from the smallest pistol, to the mightiest cannon. Their style of government was strange to her (electing an Emperor, how strange), and they maintained relations with mighty nations of demihumans.

Then there were the things that unsettled her; namely their attitudes towards magic.

In the Saderan Empire, few mages recieved the respect that Lelei thought they deserved. Her master Cato was one of the few, but for the most part, mages were seen as eccentrics, and useless in battle. Not so in the Empire of Man. There, mages and magic were feared, and up until a few hundred years ago, they killed mages on sight, until an Emperor named Magnus legalized magic. Even still, mages were kept on a short leash.

Lelei thought back to all the hard stares that Templar of Sigmar had given her. Once it came to light that both she and her master were mages, he looked as if he was ready to set them on fire right there and then.

The man scared her, and although he didn't show it, she knew that Cato was uneasy around the Templar as well.

Despite his skewed priorities, Prince Erhardt did in fact recognize, in part, the value of the dragon scales, and he planned to sell it back in his homeland.

During a council meeting, Cato, had managed to convince Prince Erhardt to sell it on this side of the Gate.

"You want to create a new realm here, do you not?" Cato had asked, "Well to do that, you need to start interacting with us in ways that doesn't involve battle. If you find the right buyer, you can sell the dragon scales for a fortune! Enough gold to supply an army or a town for a year, and, if we play our cards right, we can sell them for a higher price than we could have in your homeland."

Erhardt raised a hand to his chin, "Your words have merit Cato. Very well, we will do it your way. Where would you suggest we sell these dragon scales?"

"Well, the closest town would be Italica. It is a bustling trade city, located at the crossroads of the Appia and Dessria Highways. Merchants from all over Falmart gather there."

"As good a place as any."

"One more thing my Prince, if I might make a suggestion."

"Speak then."

"Well, perhaps it would be better if my apprentice and I speak on your behalf for the process of selling these scales. Though the Emperor's power wanes in these lands, many are still fearful of you. Should you or any of your servants approach, Italica might not open it's gates, and more importantly, it's market, to you.

"That would make selling these scales difficult."

"Indeed. I on the other hand am the famed Elder Sage! Not only will they open their doors to me, I might even be able to get a better deal! Allow Lelei and I to speak on your behalf, at the very least until we have found a buyer or buyers for the scales."

'... Very well then Cato. You have my blessing in this matter. However, take Sir Siegfried and a handful of my Greatswords with you, both for protection and to show that you speak with my authority on this matter."

"Fair enough my Prince."

"One more thing though Cato."

"Yes?"

"What do you want in return for doing this Cato?"

"Ten to fifteen percent my Prince!"

"You dare-" the Templar began before Erhard raised his hand.

"Very well. Ten percent of the profit will be yours Cato."

"I thank you Prince!"

That was a few days ago. Cato and Lelei had spent that time gathering the scales, taking them to the modestly sized one story building that Erhardt had granted them within the walls, shut themselves inside, counted the scales, and determined their value. They were not even halfway through and Cato was already celebrating that their ten percent would make them extremely wealthy.

"So, what do you plan on doing with your cut Lelei?" Cato asked her.

"Save it." she replied, "Never know when you need it. Maybe I'll invest in the new town. You?"

"Books. Lot's of books." he said with a big smile.

"A wise purchase master. I think we should also put some aside for Tuka. She helped gather the scales while she was here. We can give them to her when she gets back."

Though she had only been at the fort for a few days, Lelei and Tuka quickly became friends, the elf girl learning a bit of Reikspiel alongside her, and helping to gather the scales. However, the elf, Captain Vanon, had obligations, which had required him and his people to return to their own Gate. When he did leave, Tuka left with him preferring the company of her own kind to staying among strange humans, even if those elves were as alien as the Prince's people.

Then last week the fort had received a letter telling them of Vanon's return; he had spoken to his superiors, who had agreed to Erhardt's offer of alliance, and were sending Vanon and a small contingent of soldiers with him, to serve as Ulthuan's liaison to the Empire of Man. Another letter, delivered to Lelei, was from Tuka, who excitedly wrote down that she returning with Vanon, and could not wait to tell Lelei all about the sights she had seen in the homeland of the Asur (what the strange elves called themselves).

"Hmm? Oh, well of course. She should get a cut too... do elves use money?"

"I'm sure the elves she went with do in their homeland."

"True, true... heh, elves in armor. Now I've seen everything!"

"OPEN THE GATES!"

Lelei stuck her head out the window and saw a trio of elves on horseback coming through the main gate. To her surprise, Tuka was among them!

"LELEI!" Tuka shouted to her as the elf girl waved from the back of a milky white mare before dismounting with the natural grace of her kind "I'm back!"

Lelei hurried outside, Tuka running up to her and embracing the smaller human.

"Oh, it's so good to see you again, how have you been?"

"Keeping busy." Lelei replied, a small smile on her face, "What are you doing here, I thought you and Captain Vanon weren't due for another few days."

"I rode on ahead." Tuka answered, "With protection of course, hence these nice elves with me, Elvar and Eldir. They're from a place called Ellyrion, and they call themselves Reavers..."

Lelei let Tuka talk, taking the opportunity to look her friend over, surprised at what she saw.

Tuka was no longer dressed in the simple yet beautiful greens of the forest elves. Instead, her clothes were finely made, with a shirt of white, and an overcoat of blue, and red, with gold accents, while her pants were of quality leather, and her boots looked as if they cost as much as the rest of her clothes combined.

"I have so many things to tell you about!" Tuka practically shouted, "First though, I want to hear what's new with you-"

The sound of marching drew both girl's attention away from one another, and towards the Gate.

A dozen or so fully armored humanoids were marching out of it. They were shorter than Lelei, and that was saying a lot, but they were also twice as wide, had long beards, and were each armed with a finely crafted weapon.

"Dwarfs..." one of the Reavers said under his breath, in a tone that dripped with disgust.

 **"Hello manlings!"** the lead dwarf yelled, **"My name is Kregan, son of Krogan, Thane of Clan Magni, and I want to speak with your Prince regarding the use o' his gate to transport my Throng!"**

* * *

 **Italica**

"Please follow me Princess. The Countess is down this hall."

Pina Co Lada, Princess of Sadera, and Grand Master of the Rose Order of Knights, followed the House Formal maid to the palace's war room.

She had come to Italica on her father's orders, to determine the state of the region. Reports were coming in of increased bandit activity, as the remains of the Allied Army had dispersed and fragmented after the failure of the siege. Italica was a major center of trade, situated on the crossroads of two major highways. Should Italica fall, the Empire would be cut in half.

Her first impressions of Italica were poor; she had heard that this was a prosperous town, the envy of the lands west of the mountains. What she saw was a city gripped by fear. Fear of the bandits, fear left in the wake of the late Count's recent passing into Hardy's embrace, fear of the foreign soldiers who, although there to help, were strangers, and fear of the events that were taking place not to far away on Alnus Hill.

All the more reason for her to take action. If Sadera was going to stabilize the region, it would need Italica.

All it took was her Imperial Seal to make the House Formal guards open the gates of the city to her, and to make them take her to the Countess, who Pina had heard was a mere girl, no older than ten or twelve.

Pina was also surprised to see that, apparently, the rumors of House Formal's... tolerant, nature were true. Demihumans, hired by the late Count, almost exclusively made up the palatial staff. It was strange for Pina; the only time she had seen a demihuman in a palace was when Zorzal paraded his bedslaves around.

The maid she was following, a gaunt looking woman named Kaine, stopped in front of a great door and slowly opened it.

"Your Ladyship," she announced, "May I present her Imperial Highness, Princess Pina Co Lada of Sadera."

Pina stepped inside, and was greeted to the sight of the young Countess, sitting at a large chair that made her seem even smaller, at the head of a table. Also at the table were armed men, professional soldiers and survivors of the Battle of Alnus Hill. One soldier in particular, with his eyepatch and fierce beard, stood out.

"Countess, thank you for welcoming me and my knights into your city." Pina said, "And King Duran; I am glad to see that you survived Alnus Hill."

Duran scoffed, "You'd be the first Saderan to say so, Princess."

"I assure you your majesty, once word reaches the capital of your survival, the people will be overjoyed that a King of your fame lives." Pina said, trying to not let Duran's harsh words affect her.

"Your father won't be among their number." Duran retorted, "After all, he's the one who sent us all there to die."

Pina wanted to dispute his claim, but she knew he was correct. Her father was callous enough to send the vassal kingdoms to their deaths, but as an Imperial Princess, she could not admit that he did so knowingly, at least, not out loud.

"Friends," the Countess, Miyu, said in a voice so soft it was barely above a whisper, "We have enough enemies outside the walls of Italica without there to be bloodshed _within_."

"Of course Countess." Duran said, his venomous tone replaced with a warm one, "Forgive me."

"Princess," the Countess continued, "While protocol would call for a feast in your honor, I am afraid that as of right now, the emergency facing my city is my main concern."

"There is no need to apologize Countess," Pina replied, "Sadera is aware of the ills that afflict your city. Please, relay them to me, so that I may take them back to Sadera, and the Emperor can assist his subjects properly."

"Unless you've brought an army with you Princess, I don't think you can help us." Duran stated, "The bandits make for Italica, and they intend to loot and raze this city."

"We know of the bandit problem this province faces," Pina said, "But for them to threaten Italica directly..."

"It is true Princess." Duran said, "Somehow, a brigand named Flavius Ha Iulius has managed to bring together the scattered survivors and deserters of the Allied Army, and now leads them to Italica, under a banner of his own design, as though he plays at being a noble."

"Do you know how many men he has?" Pina asked.

"Tens of thousands." Duran stated, "The exact number we do not know; the only thing that we know for certain is that he outnumbers us, and that he will be upon us in less than a week."

Pina grimaced. She had come to this city looking for answers in regards to the Battle of Alnus; instead, she found a city on the brink of destruction.

"I will send one of my knights back to Sadera, requesting aid." Pina declared, "And until they arrive, I will stand with you and defend Italica."

"You?" Duran asked, "Fight with us? I'm surprised at you Princess, but I'd rather not have Molt Sol Augustus' blood with me."

"With all due respect King Duran," Pina began, keeping her anger in check, "You can ill afford to turn away an extra sword arm."

"She has a point King Duran." the Countess said, looking up at the King.

Duran grunted, "Very well then. The Countess is right; we do need all the swords we can get."

With a grin that was not too smug, Pina sat down at the table's other end, facing the Countess. On the table was a map of the city, with ivory figures representing both their soldiers, with the symbol of House Formal, and the Kingdom of Elbe on them, as well as the bandits, with Flavius' new heraldry freshly painted.

"So, what is the strategy for our defense so far?" Pina asked, as she began o take in everything that had been planned so far.

* * *

"Well, that should do it for now." Duran said as he stood up.

Three hours later, the war council had worked out a feasible battle plan for the siege. Duran and his forces would man the walls, while Italica's militia and city guard manned the interior. Pina and those Rose Knights she had brought with her would also fight on the walls, alongside King Duran, who had made his displeasure with the idea known, but said nothing to reject it either.

"I am still concerned about what demihumans and magic users they'll have at their disposal." Pina admitted, "Especially considering we have few options to counter them."

"We shall have to make do with what we have Princess." another soldier said, "It is all we can do."

"Indeed." Countess Miyu agreed, nodding.

Pina stood up as well; it had been a long day, and she needed a bath to wash the road dust from her body.

"Countess Formal?"

Pina and everyone else at the table turned their heads towards the door and saw the head maid standing there.

"We have another visitor; a distinguished mage named-"

"Cato the Elder Sage, at your service!" a loud, energetic voice cut her off.

Pina's eyes widened as she saw the famed mage enter the room, followed by a young girl of about sixteen, and elf girl, and five more men in armor.

"Countess Formal, thank you for having us on such short notice!" Cato said, "We've come with an offer for you, regarding a hoard of dragon scales."

"Dragon scales?" Miyu repeated, "Those are rare and valuable Cato. In normal circumstances I would be more than glad to speak with you on this matter, but Italica is currently under threat, and-"

"Hold a moment Countess." Duran interrupted, "Elder Sage; why do you travel in the company of Outlanders?" the king finished, his hand on his sword.

"Outlanders?" Pina asked, to herself mostly, as she took a closer look at the men Cato had brought with him. Though two of them wore unfamiliar yet fine armor, three of them wore armor and symbols that any Saderan listening to the tales of the world beyond the Gate could recognize; twin tailed comets, hammers, skulls, and griffons. These were the men who had destroyed two armies and were occupying the sacred Alnus Hill.

"Oh, these men?" Cato asked, almost dismissively, "Well, two of them are with this well mannered elf here," he pointed at the elf girl, "While these gentlemen are part of the reason I have all those dragon scales; as of present, I am in service to Prince Erhardt, the Commander of Fort Griffon, and Margrave of the Alnus March."

Whispering broke out among the room. They finally had a name for the enemy; Prince Erhardt, who had somehow managed to find a way to bring the Elder Sage into his service.

Pina had mixed feelings on that last bit; while Cato was legally a citizen of the Saderan Empire, he was a member of the Nomads, and as such, did not consider themselves citizens of the Empire... but to ally himself with the Outlanders without a second thought?

"Erhardt eh?" Duran said, "So that's the enemy's name."

"Now now, we didn't come here as foes, but to do business!" Cato said, "You have nothing to fear from Alnus; especially considering your own issues. Tell me, what ill wind blows Italica's way?"

The Countess informed Cato of Flavius' bandit army, and while she relayed the story to him, the tension in the room died down, though Duran and his people kept a close eye on the Outlanders.

"Well, an army of bandits taking Italica will not be good for anyone!" Cato stated the obvious, "What I relayed this news back to Prince Erhardt? I may be able to convince him to send help!"

"He would do that?" Duran asked, half suspicious.

"He might; he's rather reluctant to leave the Hill you see; not since that fight with the Flame Dragon."

"What's this about a Flame-" Miyu began before one of the Outlanders, a thirty something man with a short beard, and a longsword at his hip, strode forwards to the table, before reaching down and grabbing an ivory piece.

"I don't believe it." he said in heavily accented Common, looking at the piece, specifically the painted symbol on it.

"Don't believe what Sir Siegfried?" Cato asked, but the Outlander ignored him.

"Where have you learned of this symbol?" Siegfried inquired of the Countess.

"That symbol?" Duran asked, and Siegfried nodded, "Why, it's the one that the brigand's leader, Flavius, is using as his personal heraldry, as if he were a noble."

"Do none of you know what this is?" Siegfried exclaimed, "What this symbol means?"

"No, should we?" the Countess asked, unnerved at the seriousness the Outlander was showing.

Siegfried said nothing... then he set down the piece.

"I will tell the Prince of what it is you face; he will not hesitate to send an army to help you, for you face the darkness itself." Siegfried stated solemnly.

He turned around and barked a few orders to his men in his native tongue as he walked towards the door, with the other two men behind him, followed by the elf girl and her bodyguard, with Cato and his apprentice on their heels.

"Goodbye your Ladyship, your Royal Highness, your Imperial Highness and whomever other Highness or lordships i might have missed!" Cato shouted, "We'll be back with help!"

While everyone was still wondering what was going on, Pina took a look at the ivory figure the Outlander had picked up, or, more specifically, the symbol of Flavius.

Pina did not understand why he seemed almost frightened of it; it looked like a wagon wheel, with eight points sticking out of it. What was so threatening about that?

Pina was more frightened that the Outlander knew something that Italica's defenders did not.

* * *

 **Fort Griffon**

"I cannot say that I am comfortable with these many dwarfs coming through." Vanon said as he looked out over the Gate from the second floor balcony of the Keep, "Especially with their odor."

"Come now Captain, it would be rude of me to deny their request." Erhardt said from inside, where he was sitting at his desk and reading a report, "The pact between the Dawi and the Empire has lasted for over twenty five hundred years since Sigmar's day. I could find no reason to deny their request to use the Gate, and I would be a poor Sigmarite if I did so anyway."

No sooner had Erhardt granted the dwarf's request than the Thane had immediately begun marching his people through. Ranks of armored dwarfs, each wielding weapons that would bankrupt a minor lord, made their way through the Gate, with their deadly artillery behind them, and even a few of their marvelous flying machines.

Truly, Erhardt was blessed to be seeing such sights.

"I would not wish for you to break your oaths to the mountain folk Prince." Vanon admitted, "I merely state my opinion of their race."

"I understand your mutual mistrust of each other Captain." Erhardt said as he took a sip of beer, "And I thank you for acting cordially when you interact with them."

"My people have enough enemies as it is Prince." Vanon said, "It would not do for me to antagonize the Dawi, not when we have Saderans and Druchii to deal with."

"Hmm." Erhardt agreed.

To say that the dwarfs and the elves had bad blood between them would be the mother of all understatements. Erhardt was more educated most of the Empire, and even he only knew a handful of the great war between Dawi and Asur, the War of Vengeance. What he did know was that the dwarfs forced the elves out of the Old World forever, but that doing so had cost them their own empire, and left them vulnerable to the greenskins.

While he was curious as to the reasons of that war, Erhardt knew better than to ask now, with the fort a virtual powder keg at the moment.

He was sure that Vanon's spirits would raise considerably when Lady Tuka returned. They had missed each other by mere hours; Tuka leaving with Cato, and Vanon's small army of elves arriving later the same day, much to Vanon's disappointment It was obvious even to a blind man that Vanon was infatuated with the native elf girl, taking her back to Ulthuan, giving her a swift and expensive courser, a veritable wardrobe of clothes, as well as a host of other gifts. If he was officially courting her, Erhardt did not know, but if her presence raised his ally's mood, then she could not return from Italica soon enough.

"Enough talk of the dwarfs Captain, I insist." Erhardt pleaded, "I wish to know the news of the Shadowlands Gate; what is the situation like at the moment on your end?"

"The situation is precarious at the moment, for our ships have reported a small fleet of Druchii making land on the Sunken Isles. We believe that this may be the beginning of another invasion."

"That... is troubling." Erhardt stated the obvious, "Do you believe that your Gate is their target?"

"There is no doubt in my mind that id the case." Vanon answered firmly, "Our dark cousins, while vile and wicked, are not foolish. They know it is magical, and that it can be used in their favor. At worst, if they claim it for themselves, and find some way to use it's magic, they could transport entire armies from Naggaroth to Ulthuan in instants, rendering our navy useless. At the very least, they would have a backdoor to your homeland. The truth is, there is no option in any scenario that ends well for us should the Druchii take the Archway for themselves."

"What actions has your Prince Madir made to defend the Gate?"

"Well-"

Vanon was cut off by a single horn blast. Someone or someones were approaching the fort.

"It seems we must hold off on this line of conversation for the moment Captain." Erhardt said as he rose from his desk, "It sounds as if our friends have returned."

The two made their way to the fort's gates, which already in the process of being opened, and were greeted to the sight of their returning comrades.

"Ah Siegfried, I am glad to see that you return to us unharmed." Erhardt said as the knight rode up to him, "And Cato! I hope you managed to get us on the track to selling those scales."

While Erhardt greeted his people, Vanon walked over to Tuka's horse and held out a hand for her. Wordlessly, but with a large grin, Tuka took the hand and consented to Vanon helping her down. She could have gotten down on her own, but she greatly enjoyed the attention he showered on her.

"Not quit my Prince." Cato said as both he and his apprentice got off his wagon, "You see Italica is preparing to be put under siege by an army of bandits when we left, so they had no time to talk business and-"

"Enough talk old man!" Siegfried snapped at Cato, who instantly closed his mouth, "My Prince, we must rally the army as soon as possible and make for Italica!"

"I suppose we cannot trade with them should those bandits pillage the place, but to leave the fort vulnerable?" Erhardt asked, "Why would we do such a thing for a town that is still a vassal of Sadera?"

"Because it is not mere bandits Italica faces my Prince." Siegfried said with an almost fearful look in his eyes, "The scouts in Italica have reported that they bear the Eight Pointed Star of the Ruinous Powers!"

An icy grip seized Erhardt's heart. Vanon stopped talking to Tuka and, wide eyed, stared at Siegfried. Every man, elf, and even a few dwarfs who were close by froze in shock.

The Eight Pointed Star, here? Of all places?

"You are certain of this Knight?" Vanon, having left Tuka's side, and walked up to Siegfried, "You are certain that followers of Chaos are here?"

"I have yet to see them myself noble Asur." Siegfried admitted, 'But the Italicans have, and I do not doubt them on this. It is no coincidence that these brigands carry the symbol of Chaos with them."

"Excuse me!"

Everyone turned at the sound of the voice, and saw Cato, for once with a worried expression on his face. Lelei stood behind him, the normally stoic girl concerned at the way the normally unflappable Empire men and Ulthuan elves were worried. Meanwhile, Tuka had placed a hand on Vanon's shoulder, a questioning look in her eyes.

"Sorry for shouting," Cato began, "But what is it that has you all so worried? Sir Siegfried did not tell us anything since we left Italica, and now you lot are nigh panicked! What is this Chaos?"

"Chaos is evil." a deep voice said. Father Wilhelm had arrived, dressed in full war plate, his attendants behind him, with one carrying his holy warhammer, "It is all that is foul and wicked in the hearts of men, amplified through the suffering of others, and the cruel delights of laughing daemons. It is a force of destruction and corruption, spreading it's disease any way it can, through either subtlety, or war. Most of all, it is the will of the Dark Gods, whose names must not be spoken.

"Prince Erhardt!" Wilhelm said as he took is warhammer in both hands, "If there is even a slight chance that Sir Siegfried if correct, then it must be taken as an absolute certainty. As such, it is our duty as both dutiful Sigmarites and as men of the Empire to stamp out this corruption before it has a chance to spread, and drown this land and all it's inhabitants screaming into the darkness!"

Erhardt could hear the shouts of approval coming from the surrounding soldiers. If he refused to take an army now, after the Warrior Priest's words, he might lose the respect of his men.

Of course, he didn't want to refuse. Father Wilhelm's words reached him as well.

"You are right Father." Erhardt said, "We must not allow the forces of darkness to corrupt this world.

"Spread the word!" he shouted to everyone within earshot, "We leave at dawn!"

Cheers broke out, and men rushed to ready themselves for the long march ahead.

"My forces will join yours Prince." Vanon said as he walked over to Erhardt, "If these bandits are indeed enthralled to the Ruinous Powers, then they pose a threat to Ulthuan as well."

"I welcome any and all help Captain." the Prince replied, a smile on his face, "Gods know that I need it."

"If you do not mind Prince Erhardt," Lelei spoke up, "I would like to accompany you to this battle."

"Are you certain Lelei?" Erhardt asked, "It will be very dangerous."

"I am. I am not helpless."

"That she isn't!" Cato said proudly, "She won't slow you down My Prince! In fact, she may even help turn the tide!"

Somehow Erhardt doubted that, but he was not one to say no to more magical support.

"Very well then. Ride with the College Mages, and listen to Magister Ottmar; he'll keep you alive."

Lelei said nothing, but nodded her affirmation.

"If Vanon is going, then I will go as well." Tuka declared, taking her bow, made from wood from the Chracian forests, another gift from Vanon, "I've improved my skill considerably this past month."

"And she was already a deadly shot to begin with." Vanon admitted, and Tuka nodded in agreement.

"Ach Manlings! Elgis!"

The assembled group of men and elves turned towards the speaker and were greeted with the sight of the dwarf, Thane Kregan, who was fully dressed in his armor, and carrying an axe in one hand, and a hammer in the other.

"I hear tell that an army of those damned daemon worshipers is here on this side of the Gate, and that they're going to raze this Italica town. That true?"

"It is indeed noble Dawi." Erhardt confirmed.

Kregan nodded and then looked directly at Lelei, pointing at her.

"You there, lass!"

"Yes?"

"This Italica, is it an important town?"

"It's the one of the most important trading towns this side of the mountains, sitting on he crossroads of two major highways-"

"Yes, that's all well and good, but would this place hold information on the location of the dawi?"

"Dawi?"

The Thane scoffed, "The dwarfs umgi, the dwarfs! Would they know where the dwarfs live on this continent?"

"I believe so." Lelei admitted.

"Then is seems that's going to be my next stop as well!" Kregan shouted, "Which means we stand a better chance of defeating this Chaos horde together."

"Of course I would welcome the assistance of the dawi in the coming battle." Erhardt said, "But would you consent to fighting alongside the Asur?"

Kregan turned to Vanon and Tuka, looked them once over, and then turned back towards Erhardt.

"Aye, I'll consent to fighting alongside Elgi, on accounts that I hate Chaos more, and that my mission, given to me by the High King, takes priority."

"Then we are all in this together." Erhardt said, looking around at his allies, "May the Gods grant us victory."

The next day, three forces set out from Fort Griffon; over ten thousand men of the Empire, three hundred High Elves, and two thousand Dwarfs, marching north towards Italica. Scouts were sent out ahead to gauge the enemy's numbers, and to determine how close to Italica the bandit army was.

When the first of scouts, a brave dwarf pilot in a gyrocoper, returned, he reported that, yes, the rumor was true; the bandits did fly the Eight Pointed Star, and they were already laying siege to the town, but were being held off by King Duran and his army. For how much longer though, none could say.

The forces of Old Night had come to Falmart, and it's first battle against the forces of Order would take place outside the gates and walls of Italica.

* * *

Flavius Ha Iulius, Captain of the Bastards of Emroy, was not a man you wished to cross. A veteran of countless campaigns across the Empire, he lived his life as first a legionary, then as a mercenary, one of the best in his business. When a lordling needed his border protected, they hired Flavius. When a Senator needed a rival's lands raided, they hired him. When the legions or the Saderan's vassal kingdoms needed experienced fighting men to fill out their numbers, or to train the townmen and peasants they conscripted into their armies, they hired him.

All his clients paid him what he was due, and if they did not, well, they were no longer his, and would never be anyone else's, client. It did not matter if he was a senator, merchant, priest, or prince; Flavius always took what was owed to him.

The Bastards last job was with the King of Mudwan, as he and the rest of the Empire's servant kingdoms marched to retake Alnus Hill from an army of Outlanders from across the Gate.

It was supposed to be a simple job. He had fought in sieges before, on both sides of the wall, and he knew from experience that type of warfare was the worst to be involved in, no matter if you were the besieger or the besieged. Still, he had fought in those battles before, and he knew what to expect.

The Outlanders defied all expectations. Though their defenses were constructed in obvious haste, their fire throwing artillery rained down death upon the army's lines. Every time the lordlings sent their men up the hill, only half of them made it through the fire and destruction to the walls. Those that did had to contend with the grim faced and vicious defenders.

It was a bad campagin. The lordlings didn't know how to run it properly, content to throw wave after wave of men at the hill. Flavius was no stranger to his own men dying, but at least in the past the Bastard's deaths actually _meant_ something. This was just slaughter, with no purpose, and no progress. They were dying for nothing, only for the honor of some highborn ponce who feared the Saderans.

Three weeks into the siege, and Flavius had lost half of his company. He planned on leaving that very night, perhaps convince some of the other soldiers in the army to sign up with his band, replace the Bastard's losses, and steal anything of value from the dead lordling's tents. It was the least he could do salvage something from this military disaster.

Then, the old man came. He was dressed in ragged robes, looked and smelled of one who lived on the roads, and, most curious of all, though his eyes were milky white, Flavius could swear that the old man could see better than the keenest of falcolns.

He came to Flavius a night before the start of the fourth week, and spoke to him of the future, and, more importantly, Flavius' place in it.

A great upheaval was upon the world, the Saderan Empire would not survive it, for it had become corpulent and complacent. A great beast in it's time to be sure, but one that was desperately gasping for air, drowning in a sea of corruption of it's own making. Emperors killed their sons, brothers killed one another, and Senators became more like the criminals who plagued the cesspools of the cities. Such a civilization was doomed to collapse upon itself.

Why, even the gods had abandoned them.

Then the old man said that Flavius should not mourn the fall of Sadera; instead, he should rejoice! For it was the way of life, the eternal cycle of death and rebirth, that one empire should fall... and in it's place another would rise.

Flavius had a company of men; even better, he had the respect of the common men of the army, for he was one of the few to make it to the walls of Alnus, survive, and even kill, what he suspected, was a nobleman among the Outlanders, and claim his fine sword for himself. He could become a deserter, and a thief, stealing away into the night with his men and 'liberated' valuables. He had done such things before.

He could do that, the old man had said, or he could take his first steps to becoming a king, in his own right.

That got Flavius' attention. Were it any other old man that spoke such things, the grizzled mercenary would have knocked him to the ground, cursed him for an old fool, and gone on his way. When it was the old one who spoke such things... Flavius could not help but believe it.

So, in the following nights, Flavius conspired with other, like minded men, and together they turned on the noble fools who marched men into certain death. Only a few self styled kings survived the purge, fleeing to Italica, joining the King of Elbe, Duran, who had previously left the siege before Flavius and his compatriots could turn their swords upon him.

When the slaughter was done, the men who conspired with Flavius declared him their new leader, and half the army flocked to his banner. There were, of course, fools who dissented, taking issue with the killings of their kings, acting against their own self interests. Thus what should have been a day of victory turned into a full scale massacre, with soldiers turning upon one another. At the end of it, Flavius' forces were victorious, with the dissenters either dead or retreating to Italica as well.

Flavius now had fifty thousand killers marching under his command, and now, they needed an outlet for their aggression. So, Flavius turned his view towards Italica, the largest town closest to Alnus, and marched his army with the intent to take it. Once it was his, Flavius would use the city as the seat of a new kingdom, one that would rival Sadera in power and influence!

All the while, the old man stayed by his side, giving him wise council, and telling him of new gods... one that took a vested interest in the dealings of the mortal races, and did not turn a blind eye to suffering, or who only acted through apathetic Apostles. There were four of them, each powerful, and one day, all of existence would worship at their feet.

One god though, was above the other three, for he was a god of cunning and magic. It was this god that the old man followed, and, though he was never particurly religious in the past, it was to this god now Flavius had sworn himself to, above all others.

The Raven God.

The Changer of Ways.

Tzeentch.

He kept new his faith a secret from all but his nine most trusted commanders, who also followed him into Tzeentch worship, and tutelage under the old man.

With an army, a new god, and the favors bestowed upon him, the west would fall, and a new power would rise, with Flavius as it's head.

Change was coming. Italica would either be changed with it, or be destroyed by it's unstoppable stride.

* * *

 **Allied Army Camp**

"According to the reports of our scouts, the bandit army is four days west of Italica," Erhardt said as she pointed to the bandits last known location on the map, "That was three days ago. Right now, we are one day out, maybe two depending on the weather. Either way, I believe the enemy will reach Italica before we do."

"Aye, the gyrocoptor pilots report much the same thing." Kregan confirmed as he smoked a pipe, "Even if it's only a difference of a few hours, if this King Duran can't hold off the hordes until we arrive, there might not be a city left for us."

Vanon merely grunted, crossing his fingers as he looked at the map, while behind him the other Asur officers looked intensively at the wooden figures representing the enemy's numbers.

Since the scouts returned with new information, Erhardt had hastily thrown together a war council between the three armies, sharing what information they knew, and forming a plan of attack. In attendance wa Erhardt and his council of generals, priests, knights, mages, and the Witch Hunter. Thane Kregan and his closest warriors represented the dwarfs, and Vanon and the officers of the bowmen and spearmen he brought with him to Fort Griffon represented the elves. Also, at the urging of Cato, Erhardt had sent word through the ramshackle town that had sprung up around Fort Griffon, asking for able bodied men with combat experience to join the army.

Though he was reluctant to trust any of the natives with a combat role, they needed the numbers on their side, and a regiment of a few hundred natives had been formed almost overnight. The stand in captain of this 'regiment,' was also sitting at the table, though Lelei and Cato were forced to translate for him.

This would not be an easy fight; they were outnumbered over two to one. The bandit army was reported to be around fifty thousand, while their own was barely twenty, mainly Empire men, with Kregan's throng and the elves Vanon had brought with him, though the Silver Helm did swear that reinforcements from Ulthuan were imminent.

"Well my friends," Erhardt said, leaning back in hsi chair, "We need to stop the enemy from entering Italica. Thane Kregan, your gyrocoptors move faster than anything else in the army; would you consent to use them to delay the enemy's advance?"

"HA!" Kregan laughed, "Aye, we can make life miserable for the umgi, and delay em long enough so the main body of our army can reach Italica before they do!"

"We Asur are also very swift." Vanon said, "We can join the dwarf's delaying tactics, perhaps kill a few of their leaders if the gods are good... perhaps even confirm if there is a chaos presence among them."

Erhardy nodded, suppressing a shudder at the mention of the Ruinous Powers. While they had long since confirmed that, yes, the bandits did wave flags with eight pointed stars, they had been unable to see if the dark powers truly had taken hold of those men, or if it was mere coincidence.

The native captain said something, and Lelei translated for him, "Captain Marcus wants to know what we will do, should the dwarfs and elves delaying tactics are successful, we arrive at Italica first, before the horde?"

"Even if we arrive there first, we probably won't have enough to to get inside the city. Instead, we will form ranks with Italica's walls to our back." Erhardt said, "Infantry forming a wall between the enemy and our artillery pieces. Though we are outnumbered, we are not outmatched. The guns won us the Siege of Alnus, and now, they'll win us Italica."

"Do not put all your faith in guns Prince Erhardt." Vanon said, "You had walls in addition to guns at Alnus. This time, you'll be on the other side of the walls, with no advantage of the high ground. True, yours and the dawi's firepower will no doubt slay hundreds, if not thousands of the enemy, but when battle comes, it will not be guns that win the day, but the sword arms of your men."

"As much as it pains me to agree with an Elgi, the deciding point of this battle will come down to which side breaks first." Kregan added, "You can be assured though, the Dawi will not break. We will never break."

"I thank you both for your words of wisdom, and will take your advice to heart." Erhardt said politely, "May your people's gods watch over you in the coming battle."

With that, the war council ended. Erhardt stayed behind, trying to calm his too fast beating heart. This was his first battlefield command, and he was terrified. He only hoped that he could both control his fear, and ensure that no one else would find out about his fear.

 _'Father always made it look so easy,'_ he thought, _"but I've done all I can. I've listened to both my generals, who are both wiser and more experienced than I, and I've listened to the elder races. All I must do now is defeat the enemy, and ensue that most of these men are still alive come the morrow.'_

* * *

When Vanon entered his tent, he saw that Tuka was sitting at the small table that traveled with him, drinking the Chracian wine she had developed a liking to during their time in Ulthuan.

"So, how was the war council?" she asked, clearly a little buzzed, "Has anything changed since yesterday?"

"The dwarf flying machines and our own horsemen are going to harry and delay the brigands for as long as we can, give the humans and dwarfs and our own band time to set up their guns and infantry. Then the battle begins."

"And what of the troops your Prince Madir is sending?" Tuka asked, her tone becoming a slight hard at the mention of Vanon superior.

"They're coming, but at this rate they will arrive after the battle has already gotten underway." Vanon said as he sat down across from Tuka, who handed him a goblet before pouring him some wine.

"I see..." Tuka said, looking at the ground, "Well, the humans are strong. I have faith."

"It is good that someone does." Vanon spoke with a smile as he reached across the table and held Tuka's hand, who's face turned a shade of fearsome scarlet at the physical contact, "All that remains to be decided is your part in the battle."

"My part?" Tuka asked, now distracted from Vanon's hand holding, "Well... I suppose I'll be fighting with the rest of the archers on the field."

"Then that is where you will be." Vanon said as he withdrew his hand, "We should sleep now; we have an early start in the morning."

"Of course." Tuka replied as hse finshed off the rest of her wine, before she got up, walked over to Vanon, and kissed his cheek.

"Goodnight. Don't die." she added quietly.

"And leave you alone? Never."

* * *

 **Road to Italica**

"Shields up!"

Scores of gunshots rang out, and dozens of bandits dropped dead, the rest either scrambling to hide behind their shields, or to throw their javelins at the swift pistoliers and outriders, with only a few hitting the horsemen.

"Kill those sons of whores!" a bandit roared as he held his shield above his face, "Come on you mongrels! Kill em!"

The second he looked over his shield, an arrow went through his left eye. No sooner had he hit the ground than his men began to form a shield wall in an effort to protect themselves from the deadly gunfire.

"Hold tight men!" an officer said as he threw one of his javelins. It soared through the air and struck true, impaling a pistolier in the chest, "We will be the rocks that hold out against their waves!"

"That one's mouthy." a Shadow Warrior said to her sister, as both elves hid behind the tall grass that surrounded the road, "I bet you a dagger that I can shoot his tongue from here."

"I'll take that bet." came her sister's reply, "But only if his mouth is open at the time, speaking in his pig tongue."

"Done." the warrior notched an arrow to her bow string and waited for the officer to speak again. He opened his mouth to give more orders, and that's when the elf released her arrow.

"Hold the line! Don't let them-"

His next words were cut off by an arrow going directly into his mouth, piercing his tongue to the back of his throat.

With the death of their officer, the bandits began to waver. It was not long before one of them gave the order to retreat.

"Fall back! Fall back to the main force!" shouted one bandit, who was immediately killed by one of his fellows.

"Hold you whoresons! Hold! If we run they'll just pick us off one by one! Keep the shield wall up, and wait for the main force to arrive!"

A gunshot whizzed past his head, singing his beard. To that, he merely scowled and raised his sword up high.

"Do you hear us you dead men! Try and kill us all, and we'll drown you in numbers!"

The skirmish had been going on for the past hour. A combined force of men, elves, and dwarfs had lain in wait on the road, with Italica six hours to the east. A large advance party, sent ahead of the main bandit force to get a lay of the land and to clear out any obstacles to the main body's advance and then report back to the main force, soon arrived, unknowing that they had walked into an ambush.

Guns and arrows flew through the air, killing many of the bandits, and forcing them to take cover. Every attempt on the bandit's part to counterattack was met with a hail of arrows and lead. The ferocity of the carnage they now faced reminded many of them of Alnus Hill, and dread soon took hold of many of their hearts. Some lost their nerve, but those who tried to run were picked off by elven arrows. They had lost most of their officers by this point, the Shadow Hunters taking care to pick out any bandit who looked to be exerting authority, and silencing his orders with an arrow.

"Is that the best you can do?" the new leader bellowed as a dwarf crossbow bolt pierced his shield, "Is that the best you fuckers can do? My old gran hit harder than lot!"

"Sergeant!" another bandit cried out, pointing into the sky, "They've brought fliers!"

Every bandit looked up into the sky and saw a trio of flying beasts, whose wings moved as fast as hummingbirds, descend onto their position. The creatures released things from their grasp, and that was the last sight any of the bandits every saw.

"Ah, that was a beautiful sight!" a hooded dwarf armed with a crossbow exclaimed as the bandits scattered after the bombs fell from the gyrobombers, "What did I tell ya manling?"

"Indeed Sir Dwarf." Siegfried said as he looked over the fleeing bandits, "Talys?"

"Yes human?" an Ellyrian Reaver asked.

"Could you send your riders to run down the escapees. We can't have them warning the main force."

"Very well human." Talys nodded and then took off on his horse, followed close behind by his band of wild riders.

"If I were in yer shoes umgi, I would ne trust such a task to the elgi." the dwarf said before spitting on the ground, "I'd have someone trustworthy do it."

"Well, I trust the elves Sir Dwarf." Siegfried replied, not in the mood for the dwarf's prejudices. He then kicked his horse to make it go forward.

"Sir Siegfried!" an Outrider said as he rode up towards the knight, "We have news from Prince Erhardt; his army has arrived at Italica. He has ordered us to finish up here, and to return at once."

Siegfried nodded before tunring to the men, elves, and dwarfs that made up their ambush force.

"Order the men to search for survivors among the enemy! When you find them, kill them, and then gather their corpses onto the main road and create a pile so we may burn them. We don't want these things to get back up again! After that, and after the Ellyrians' return, we make for Italica."

* * *

Flavius was livid.

He and his army waited for hours for the advance force to report back. Long past their due date, he sent another scouting force out to find the first one. The second force returned with ill news.

Now, it was later in the day, and Flavius gazed upon what was left of the first advance party; a pile of charred corpses blocking the road.

"Whosoever did this," Flavius began, his voice raspy and low, "Will feel the full force of our rage. I swear it to the Gods; this insult will be answered in kind."

"Very good My Lord Flavius." the old man said as he approached, ragged robes stained with the dust from the roads, and his white raven perched on his shoulder, "Those who stand in your way must be destroyed. I would advice caution though."

"Caution old one?" Flavius sneered as he waved his arm towards the burning pile of corpses, "Those Italican fools need to pay for what they did to my men, and you advise caution?"

Flavius was a large man, almost six and a half feet tall, and more than capable of killing anyone who drew his ire.

"Lord Flavius, do not let your grief blind you." the old man retorted, unafraid and unconcerned with the possible danger Flavius' wrath might do him, "Look around you, and tell me what you see."

Flavius scoffed, but did as his adviser asked. He took in the carnage, and as he did so, he began to notice certain things. On the less burned corpses, he noticed holes in their bodies, and the destruction done to the road itself. Most of all, he was able to smell a familiar scent. One he became closely acquainted with at Alnus Hill.

"The Outlanders!" he snarled, "They were here! Their fire weapons left that same stench in the air back at Alnus!"

"Indeed."

"Why are they here though?" Flavisu asked no one in particular, "This... this isn't good."

"No my Lord. The Outlanders defeated the allied army. As it is, your band may not fare much better."

"We cannot afford to turn back now." Flavius stated, "If we turn back, our forces will implode on themselves, splinter into a hundred smaller bands. Everything we worked for these past months will be in vain!"

"I said nothing of turning back, Lord." the old man said, smiling, "Only that your band, 'as it is' may not stand a chance."

"I cannot recruit more fighters! There are none left in these lands!"

"Not fighters Lord, no, but should you devote yourself further to the Raven God-"

"I've already sworn myself to our god, what more could I do?"

"Tzeentch is not like the gods of your fathers, oh no, no, no. He does not stand by and watch; he gives those faithful to him boons... blessings. Among these boons mayhaps lay a way to bring other devoted servants of the Changer of Ways to fight for you."

"... I am listening."

"It is simple my Lord; I am more schooled in these rituals. I will start them for you. All I require though, is life."

"Life?"

"Yes. Life for life. Sacrifices must be made."

"You mean to sacrifice humans?"

"Humans, demihumans, it matters not."

Flavius looked around, over his army, and took note of the demihumans that were counted among his ranks. His eyes then fell upon a group of orcs, who had served with him in the Bastards for over ten years now.

"Will they do?" Flavius asked the old man?

"Oh, they will do nicely."

* * *

 **Italica**

"Countess Formal, King Duran, and Princess Co Lada, may I present Prince Erhardt of Reikland!"

As the House Formal maid stepped aside to let the Outlander leader enter the room, surrounded by a retinue of other Outlanders, as well as Cato and his apprentice, Pina took the opportunity to look their temporary ally over. She was surprised at how young he was; he was around her age, and already he was in command of an army. More responsibility than father ever gave her. Probably because he was a boy.

Pushing aside her frustrations, she examined this Prince Erhardt closer; his armor was decorated in the skulls and comets she had come to expect from the Outlanders, but it also had a few ravens engraved in the metal as well. What it meant, she did not know, but at the moment, it was not important.

What was important was the army he had brought to help defend Italica.

"We welcome you to Italica Prince Erhardt." Countess Formal said, "And we thank you for the men you have brought with you."

The Prince leaned towards Cato and said something in the Outlander's harsh native tongue. Cato nodded and then exchanged more words with him, before addressing the Countess.

"The Prince is grateful that you opened your gate to his army. He then says that only with our combined strength can we hope to vanquish the Chaos Horde."

"Yes, I'm sure he is." King Duran said, not bothering to hide his scowl at Erhardt, still unhappy at the thought of sharing a battlefield with the Outlanders who killed many of his countrymen and fellow kings.

Erhardt then uttered more words to Cato, who nodded.

"Prince Erhardt has instructed me to ask you for information regarding the roles that the forces within Italica will play in the coming battle, so as to better position his own men, as well as those of his allies."

"Allies?" Pina asked, "The Prince has brought additional forces?"

"Yes Your Highness," Cato said, "With the Prince's army traveled warriors from the Asur, and the Dawi."

"Asur and Dawi? What in the name of Hardy's hell are these peoples?" Duran asked.

"Apologies Your Majesty," Cato apologized, "Those are the names that the elves and dwarves of the other world call themselves by."

Murmuring instantly took hold within the chamber. Not just men lived in the other world, but elves and dwarves? And there was enough of them to send an armed force through the Gate?

A handful of the Prince's retinue stepped forward. A tall man took off his silver helmet and ran a hand through his blonde hair, giving everyone in the room a clear line of sight on his pointed ears, clearly marking him as an elf, though he was unlike any elf Pina had ever seen before. This one carried himself like any knight of the Saderan Academy; proud, confidant, and dangerous.

On the other side of the prince was clearly a dwarf, though this one was armored in metal plate armor of such quality, it was probably worth half of the valuables in the room put together. His beard was long, and his eyes hard. Like the elf, he was vastly different than any dwarf Pina had seen before.

"How many men did your boy Prince bring with him?" an officer asked Cato, saying 'your Prince' as if it were a dirty word, "Because unless he brought more than twenty thousand oh his Outlander barbarians, we won't stand a chance."

Pina inwardly grimaced at how antagonistically Duran and the others were speaking of this Erhardt, and thankful that the Outlander did not understand their language, and as such was unaware that he was all but being insulted.

"Prince Erhardt has brought with him ten thousand men of his homeland." Cato said, "The Asur brought three hundred, and the dawi have among their number two thousand."

"Only twelve thousand!" Duran shouted, "The enemy outnumber us two to one!"

"Should have known not to rely on an Outlander-"

"We'll be overrun-"

"-waiting for them to raze this town before they swoop in-"

"-what sort of reinforcements are elves and dwarves-"

"Silence! All of you!" Pina shouted, annoyed by their attitude, "That is still twelve thousand more men than we had this morning!"

"With all due respect Princess Pina," an officer bearing House Formal colors spoke, "The enemy still outnumber us. How can we hope to overcome?"

"The army you people sent through the Gate Outnumbered us." a rough voice said.

The entire room turned and looked at Erhardt, who had stepped forward, projecting an air of confidence.

"The army you sent against us at Alnus also outnumbered us." Erhardt said, his grasp of the Common Tongue decent, but spoken in a heavy accent, "Twice you people sent an army against us, and both times we defeated you."

Pina was shocked. The Outlander understood their language. More than a few of the more insulting officers were staring dumb founded at him, and looked as though they had placed their foot in their mouths.

As she had been dealing with the more insufferable officers for the past few days now, she was also secretly delighted the Outlander Prince had silenced them, if for but a moment.

Erhardt looked at Duran.

"I recognize your banners from Alnus. Cato tells me you are King Duran of Elbe. Is that not rue?"

"It is." Duran said suspiciously.

"Then you recall how your army could not take our fort. How we butchered you by the hundreds day by day until your army imploded upon itself."

Duran bristled, "You had more than ten thousand men in that fort though."

"True, but ten thousand is all that we need to win this battle." Erhardt said, "For we do not rely on numbers to arry the day, no. We use our artillery. Surely, King Duran, you remember the fireballs we rained down upon the Allied Army?"

"I do."

"And these bandits; they are also remnants from the same Allied Army?"

"They are."

"Then they will remember our guns as well." Erhardt explained confidently, "And they will fear them. We can use that fear to our advantage, in addition, or course, of all the death we will cause among their number. Now, shall we discuss strategy?"

"We shall Prince Erhardt." Pina said, taking charge of the war meeting, "Where would your artillery do the most damage?"

* * *

Erhardt tried very hard to hide how smug he felt whenever he looked at one of the Saderan officers. He had played the part of an ignorant foreigner, and waited to see how the locals would speak and act in his presense if they believed that he were incapable of understanding them. It was a favored tactic of his father during his own youth, and allowed you to gain a measure of the true character of the people you would be dealing with.

So far, Erhardt was not impressed.

Out of all the men there, few of them were proper soldiers. Countess Formal was a mere girl, and her officers upjumped merchants, or city guard out of their depths. General Duran was a seasoned soldier though, and knew much of war, and though his distrust and disdain for Erhardt was obvious, he would be able to work past it for the sake of defending Italica.

However, Erhardt was still attempting to get the measure of Princess Pina. At first glance, he could tell that she was green. She was obviously well trained, and had access to the finest equipment money could buy. She could obviously hold her own in a fight.

However, it was also obvious that this would be her first fight as well. While Erhardt did not want to make assumptions, it seemed to him that she had been purposefully kept away from battle. Was it due to her age? No, he had seen other Saderans around her age on the battlefield; he had even killed a few himself. Her gender? Perhaps. He did not see many women in the Saderan armies after all. Of course, it was not as if women fought in Imperial armies either; at least, unless you were a wizard.

Still, she seemed to know what she was doing. Training would take over in the heat of battle, keep her focused. He wouldn't have to worry about her.

Erhardt also noticed that she was a true beauty, a universal trait among Saderan women it seemed, but even by their standards, Pina was gorgeous. Long red hair going down to her waist, wide hips, pretty eyes, and an ample bosom that her armor did little to hide, though a part of him hoped she had proper armor to wear during the actual fighting.

It was a pity that she was only a temporary ally, and would go back to being an enemy once this Flavius was dealt with, otherwise Erhardt would court her.

"According to our scouts, the bandit army has been delayed by a single day." Erhardt explained, "That's time that my forces, and Thane Kregan will use to bring our guns into positions. We will then use these guns to bombard the enemy force, while our infantry, combined with King Duran's men, will meet the enemy in open battle."

"There's still more of them than there are us." an officer pointed out, Cato translating shortly afterwards, "How will we keep them from overcoming our lines?"

"Oi, Sage!" Kregan shouted at Cato, "Since I don't speak his language, you tell this manling that he has not fought alongside we Dawi before, but that he should know that we Sons of Grngi do not break, not even if it was a hundred thousand umgi coming against us!"

"An Asur is worth at least ten human soldiers." Vanon explained as well, but in the Saderan's tongue, "And combined with the fearsome artillery we have brought to bear, I have no doubt in my mind that we will be victorious."

"We thank you all for your contributions." Princess Pina said, "Though, if you would be so kind as to indulge in my curiosity?"

"I will to the best of my ability Princess." Erhardt replied.

"Your knight, Sir Siegfried I believe his name was, recognized the banners used by Flavius. He recognized the eight pointed wheel. I think you do as well. I also think you fear what this symbol represents, otherwise you wouldn't have brought an army at all.

"I would like it very much that you tell us what this symbol means."

Erhardt was impressed.

"Very well. You deserve to know the enemy we face. Flavius flies not a wheel, but a star. The eight pointed star of Chaos. It is the symbol of the enemy of civilization, and an ancient foe of not just my people, but of Captain Vanon's, and Thane Kregan's. It nearly brought the end of our world multiple times... and now it seems it exists in your world as well."

Erhardt would have gone on, but the chamber door opened, and two of Italica's mutant maids walked in.

"Forgive us Countess Miyu, but a Siren claiming to be from the bandit army is at the gates, claiming she has information on the enemy."

"Really?" Pina asked, skeptical, "What kind of information?"

"She said something about... blood sacrifices."

* * *

 **One day away from Italica**

The orc was screaming even before the Old Man plunged his knife into his chest, and carved out his still beating heart.

Once, Flavius would never have allowed the Old Man to murder his soldiers. That was before he knew the glory of Tzeentch though.

Nine orcs were selected from among Flavius' army, nailed to nine stakes arranged in the holy symbol of the Raven God, with the entire bandit army watching. One by one, the Old Man sacrificed each of them with the knife, carving out their hearts, and throwing them into a large bowl of fire.

"Oh Lord of Magic," he whispered, "We offer up these souls unto you, so that you may grace our army. Send your servants towards this mortal plane, so they may join the coming battle, and bring change to this world."

A minute passed. Then another. And then another. Nothing happened. The bowl of fire burned orange, but nothing happened.

"This man is insane!" one of the soldiers whispered to his compatriots, "How soon before he takes a knife to us?"

"You doubt me?" the Old Man said to the soldier, having somehow heard him among thousands, "You doubt Tzeentch?"

"Look you old fool!" he replied, "This Tzeentch is not my god! Emroy is my God! And-"

Faster than anyone his age had a right to be, the Old Man stabbed the knife into the soldier's chest.

"Perhaps I was wrong to use them as sacrifices." the Old Man said, "Humans are better in that regard."

"You murderer!" another man shouted, and he with five others drew their swords and charged at the Old Man.

The only took a single step before Flavius beheaded one in a single stroke, before turning on the other four, killing them in a blink of an eye.

"Would anyone else like to challenge my authority?" Flavius asked, pointing his blade at the rest of the army. No one dared step forward.

It was then that the fire burned blue.

"Of course..." the Old Man said, "It was not I who should have carried out the sacrifices... but you Flavius. Your sacrifice has pleased Tzeentch.

"Come forth servants of the Changer of Ways!" the Old Man shouted as he approached the bowl, while Flavius and his nine closest followers dragged the bodies of the slain men to the bowl. They then carved the hearts out of the dead men's chests, and placed them into the fire.

The fire grew larger and larger, until something stepped out of it.

It was horrible; a writhing mass of mouths and tendrils, spilling fire out of every opening. Following it from the flames was a large pink monster with multiple arms, and a mouth full of teeth. More and more creatures followed, each grotesque and eldritch.

Finally, stepping out of the flames was something vaguely in the shape of a man, though it's legs were those of a bird, and it's head that of a raven with blue feathers. In one clawed hand was a golden sword, and the other a staff of shifting matter.

 ** _"Mortal, you called Jhiun the Silent Shouter to this material world,"_** it spoke in a thousand different languages at once, causing the ears of several bandits to start bleeding, " ** _Why_**?"

"To bring great change oh holy one." the Old Man said, "This is the army of Flavius, the first of many faithful to know of the glory of Tzeentch."

 ** _"This world knows not of our god?"_** it asked, and a hundred miles away, a farmer's wife with child gave birth to a mishapen stillborn.

"No oh great one. That is why we have called you here, so we may claim this world for Tzeentch, and that all may know of his glory! Starting with the city of Italica!"

Jhiun made a clicking noise with it's beak, before raising it's weapons into the air, and screeching. It's fellow daemons joined in it's noise, each adding it's unholy voice to the symphony of Chaos.

Outside the walls of Italica

Within his tent, sitting down in a travel chair, Vanon looked the letter over in his hand, reading it's contents in the light of the lantern.

"What do you have there?" Tuka asked as she laid down on top of the sheets of the bed, leading on her elbow and resting her head on her hand. She was dressed in a silken blue nightgown, cut low in front, and stopping above her knees, picked out for her by Vanon's elder sister, during their time in Lothern.

"A letter from my parents." he replied, "They are eager to meet you."

"Really?" she asked warily, "They may not be so eager if they knew about us. Do they know that we are... involved?"

"They do." Vanon replied, setting the letter down before walking over to the bed and setting himself down next to her, "Unlike Prince Madir, they're more accepting of interclass couples."

"Why Vanon, is that a proposal?" Tuka asked playfully as she wrapped an arm and a long leg around him, "A bit soon isn't it? We've only known each other for a month after all."

"Come now Tuka," Vanon replied wit ha smile, "When I propose to you, it will not be on the eve of battle."

"I will hold you to that." she said with a smile, "When you do, I shall be expecting it to be far more romantic."

"Your wish is my command Lady Tuka." Vanon said before placing a light kiss on her forehead.

"This past month has been wonderful Vanon." Tuka said, "I just wish..."

"I know." he said, hugging her and stroking her hair, "You miss your family."

"I do."

"You still believe that your father is still alive?"

"I know he is."

"Then we'll find him one day."

"Do you promise?"

"I swear before the Cadai."

"... Thank you..."

* * *

The next day, an hour before noon, the bandits arrived at Italica. Outside of the walls were the combined armies of Erhardt's Imperial, the remains of the Allied Army under Duran, Kregan's Throng, Vanon's company, and those few Rose Order Knigths that had accompanied Princess Pina. Atop the walls were Italica's City Watch, armed with bows to rain death upon the enemy.

"There they are Princess." Erhardt said as he rode over to Pina, taking note that she was wearing more sensible armor than she had at the war room, "Are you ready?"

"I am a Princess of Sadera and a trained knight." she replied, "My place is here."

"Good." Erhardt said wit ha smile, admiring her confidence, " Just watch out for our cannons. It would be a shame to be killed by friendly fire."

"I'll keep that in mind." Pina replied with a small grin.

In the bandit's ranks, Flavius looked out over Italica, scowling.

"The Outlanders are here!" he hissed.

"Do not worry Lord Flavius," the Old Man said, "we have Tzeentch with us instead of the old weaklings you called gods. We cannot fail."

Flavius nodded before he drew his sword.

"Catapults, ballistas, get into range and prepare to fire! Horsemen, flank them! Get the fliers into the air and target their artillery! Infantry, charge!"

The bandit force rushed forward, and the defenders stood their ground. The guns began to fire. The daemons began to cackle.

The Battle of Italica had begun, and all the while, a pair of ancient eyes was watching, smiling.

"Well," Rory Mercury, Apostle of Emory, said whilst balancing her huge axe on her shoulder, "it seems as if it is time for us to get involved."

"Good." Giselle, Apostle of Hardy replied, gripping her scythe, "I was getting tired of waiting around."


	4. Chapter 4

**Italica**

Screams filled the air, but even the shouts of tens of thousands of men were drowned out by the Outlander's guns. In such chaos, it was becoming hard to tell friend from foe.

Still though, Pina fought on.

Having lost her horse to a stray arrow earlier, she lashed out with her saber, striking down her twelfth foe, a dog demihuman, before bringing it up again to block a swipe from a human with a short sword. She parried a few blows, searching for an opening, before he left himself wide open. She took her chance, and thrust her sword into his neck, pulling it out and letting the brigand drown in his own blood.

This was her first battle. Before this, the Rose Order had been relegated to a ceremonial role, humored by the Emperor. She had always wanted a chance to prove herself on the field, and now she had it.

It was everything and nothing like she was expecting. Her trainers had always warned her that while glory could be found there on the battlefield, you were more likely to find a horrible messy end. Pina thought she was prepared for that. She was wrong. The maimed men, the spilled blood, the horrible smell from the black powder weapons... this was the closest one could get to Hardy's Hell while still alive.

A small part of her was amazed that she hadn't turned on her heel and fled. It was the training; she was always a dutiful student in the ways of war, and years of training had taught her to stand her ground, keep her wits about her, and not give in to the despair of the battlefield.

Easier said than done, but she was doing it all the same. If she did not, then she would die.

A bull headed demi swung an axe at her. She narrowly dodged it, and stabbed upwards, driving her sword through the monster's bottom jaw and into what passed for a brain among it's kind before hastily withdrawing the gore covered blade.

"Princess!"

Somehow she heard the voice over the roar of the battle, and turned her head to see Norma Co Igloo, her Chamberlain and one of the few men in the Rose Order, approach on horseback, with a spare horse being lead behind him.

"Norma! You are sight for sore eyes!" Pina exclaimed.

"I saw that you lost your horse Your Highness!" he shouted, raising a shield to deflect and arrow that almost skewered him, "So I took the liberty of bringing you a spare!"

"Thank you Norma! she shouted before climbing onto the horse's back, "How goes the battle?"

"The Outlander's artillery are still killing many of the foe, but their fliers harass their crews, making reloading difficult. They're hitting all of our flanks hard, but the lines are holding, especially those dwarfs."

"Good. Lead me to the artillery; let's see if we cannot keep those flyers from causing anymore trouble."

"At once!"

* * *

Vanon was a worldwind of death among the enemy horsemen, attacking faster with his sword than any human could hope to match, and preventing the bandits from flanking the motly coalition Erhardt had thrown together.

Though it pained him to admit it, the Asur had brought the smallest number of warriors to the battle, barely three hundred. What they lacked in numbers, they made up for in skill.

"Keep up the attack!" Vanon ordered as his sword liberated a bandit's head from his shoulders, "Don't let a single one of these primitives through!"

A large ogre like monster began making it's way towards him, swinging a huge club that knocked aside both friend and foe.

"Well, that's an ugly one." Vanon said, to himself mostly as he leveled his sword and charged towards the screaming beast, ready to do battle with the monster.

At least, he would have, were it not for the rapid succession of rows that hit the monster in both of it's eyes, killing it instantly, and sending it tumbling to the ground. It took all of Vanon's horsemanship skills to prevent both himself and his steed from being crushed, though some bandits were not so lucky.

He looked over his shoulder and saw Tuka pulling more arrows from her quiver, notching them to her bow, and loosing them, killing more bandits.

A part of him was disappointed that he would not get a chance to fight the beast himself.

That was overshadowed by his appreciation of such a good shot, and of the archer who took it.

 _'She could teach a Shadow Warrior a thing or two about marksmanship.'_ Vanon thought to himself as he turned his horse back to the battle.

* * *

"Come you Sons of Grungni!" Kregan shouted as he smashed a bandit in the face with his hammer, "Come and show these manlings! Come and show these elgi! Come and show our foes how the dawi fight!"

Two thousand dwarfs shouted in unison, raising axes and hammers and meeting the oncoming lines of the foe.

The left flank was theirs to hold, and hold it they would, no matter what the enemy threw at them.

Suddenly, Kregan was knocked to the ground by a full on impact from a flail wielded by a large humanoid lizardman. Thankfully, Kregan's armor took most of the blow, and he scrambled to his feet, ignoring the pain in his chest.

"Is that the best you can do monster?!" he screamed before launching himself towards it, dodging the flail before, putting all his might behind it, he smashed the creature in the knee with his hammer, sending it to the ground before he took it's head off with his axe.

"Irondrakes!" Kregan yelled, "Give them a taste of Dawi fire!"

The Irondrakes moved forward, aimed their devastatingly powerful drakeguns, and fired a stream of fire upon the enemy. Those who weren't killed instantly died later, screaming in pain as the alchemic fire burned them. Those bandits who were out of range saw the carnage that would await them if they pressed forward, and went to further, some even deserting and making a break for it.

"Ha!" Kregan cackled, "Look at the umgi and their mutants run!"

Above the Thane, the gyrocoptors and gyrobombers flew overhead, attacking the bandits, and scattering them before their firepower.

"Khazukan Kazakit-ha!" Kregan shouted, banging his two weapons together, "Come umgi! Come and face the Sons of Grungni! Come and face your doom!"

* * *

"This battle is going nowhere Old Man!" Flavius said as h paced back and forth from his vantage point on the hill, overlooking the carnage below, "They've stalled us for too long! Unless we do something soon, we'll lose our momentum and lose this battle!"

"Calm yourself Flavius,"came the reply, "All goes according to the Great Design."

"Explain yourself.'

"Your army is faithful to Tzeentch; how could they be? They know not our god. Therefore, we send them into battle, a battle they cannot hope to win... unless Tzeentch intercedes."

"You send my men to die!"

"We send them to die, General Flavius." he responded, "The decisions is ultimately up to you."

"Then send in those daemons you summoned!" Flavius cried, "Send them in! I cannot rule these lands without an army, and I will not have an army if they all die-"

 ** _"I take no orders from mortals."_**

Flavius turned around and came face to face with the large daemon the Old Man had summoned, Jhuin the Silent Screamer.

 ** _"The deaths of my slaves serve a purpose."_** Jhuin said, **_"Through their demise, I see where the enemy is strong, where they are weak, and where I should strike."_**

"Your slaves?" lavius asked, incredulously, "They are slaves to no man-"

Jhuin's eyes flashed, and Flavius' words were cut off, air ceased to fill his lungs, and his feet were lifted off the ground by an invisible force.

 ** _"They are my slaves mortal, as are you, to do with as I see fit. When next you speak, mind your tongue, or I will take it from you, and replace it with something venomous."_**

The daemon released Flavius, who fell to his knees.

"I... I understand, master."

" ** _Good_**." the daemon prince said, before turning his raven eyes back to the battle.

 ** _"I have seen enough."_** he spoke, before tapping the earth with his staff, lifting a platform of rock under his clawed feet, and levitating it into the air with himself still on it, before moving to the battlefield, followed by his force of monstrous daemons.

"You tricked me." Flavius said to the Old Man, "You told me that summoning these daemons would grant me victory, not bind me to that... thing!"

"I lied." the Old Man said with a cruel smile, "All are but pawns to the Great Deceiver! Including you."

* * *

"Sigmar!" Erhardt shouted as he drove a lance into the breastplate of what appeared to be an infantry officer. At the death of their leader, many of the surrounding bandits hesitated, only to then be picked off by the lances of the Reiksguard.

"Men of the Empire, we've stalled these Chaos scum!" Erhardt cried out, raising his lance into the air, "Now is the time to press our attack!"

"Sigmar! Sigmar! Sigmar!" came the chants from his men.

"Forward!" Erhardt cried out with newfound confidence, urging his horse to charge. He barely made it a foot before lighting struck the ground in front of him, making his horse rear up on it's hind legs.

"Whoa there!" Erhardt shouted, dropping his lance so he could grab the reigns with both hands. He looked into the sky for the source of the lightning; as there was not a single cloud in the sky, the bolt had to have come from some sort of mage.

He caught site of the caster... and his heart froze in fear.

It was unnatural. Evil. It's legs and head were those of a raven, and it was glowing with blue energy.

"Chaos daemon! The Siren was right!" Erhardt shouted. He then turned towards his knights.

"Ferdinand, find Father Wilhelm and the mages! We will need their strength if we are to overcome this servant of darkness!"

"At once my Prince!"

The knight took off. Erhardt drew his sword, and faced the daemon, who was descending on it's rock platform.

"Sigmar give me strength..." he prayed, "Sigmar preserve me this day, fill me with your light, and allow me to overcome this evil! And shoul I fall, then Morr, if you judge me worthy, take my should to your halls, and let me rest. Amen."

When the daemon was close enough for Erhardt to see it's beady crow's eyes, the daemon opened it's mouth and breathed a stream of blue fire, incinerating one of the knights.

"Soot it down!" Erhardt ordered several crossbowmen, who raised their weapons and loosed their bolts, for all he good it did them; the bolts simply bounced off the daemon.

The shots did draw the daemon's attention to the crossbowmen though. It turned it's malevolent gaze to them, aimed it's staff, and let loose a torrent of azure lightning, killing over a dozen men in one blast.

More screams to his front drew Erhardt's attention away from the daemon. Just up ahead, Erhardt saw a mass of lesser daemons, pink horrors and flamers, tear through his men like they were wheat.

"Sigmar preserve us," he uttered frantically, "Where is that Priest!"

A pink horror launched itself into the air towards Erhardt, arms all grasping for him, and it's huge mouth open, filled with teeth.

Erhardt leveled his sword and yelled defiantly at it, ready to kill this warpspawn, or die trying.

The horror was mere breaths away from him when a black and red blur jumped in front of the Prince, and cut the horror in half, sending blue blood and ichor everywhere, and forcing Erhardt to cover his face lest the daemon gore blind him.

Lowering his arms, Erhardt took in his savior. She was a young girl, short, and somewhere between the ages of fourteen and eighteen. She was wearing an intricate black dress, and was carrying a huge battleaxe, which was taller than she was.

What stood out he most about her was the bloodthirsty grin on her face. Erhardt was not entirely certain that she would not attack him next.

"You looked like you could use some help Prince." she said in flawless Reikspiel, "And I could use a good fight!"

"I thank you my lady." Erhardt said, "What is your name?"

"You can call me Rory." she answered, before looking up at the daemon, "And we need to kill that thing."

"Easier said than done." Erhardt replied, "First we need to bring it down."

"Correction," Rory interjected, "First we need to take care of it's friends."

More of the daemons were charging toward Erhardt and Rory's position. Snarling, Erhardt leveled his sword and charged.

"Men of the Empire steel yourselves! The Archenemy sends it's daemons at us! Hold the line! Hold the line!"

The daemon opened his beak and breathed blue fire upon the Empire soldiers below him, killing dozens with his magic. It took all of Erhardt's horsemanship in order to escape the warpfire, and to not join his men in death.

"Your men are dropping like flies Prince!" Rory said as she leveled her axe, "Let me occupy it's attention."

"That thing is a daemon! You cannot fight it alone!" Erhardt exclaimed.

"No need to concern yourself." Rory said with a smile, "You have other things to worry about though; namely the army of bandits who are still coming.

"Besides; I'm not alone."

Erhardt saw a blue blur flew up to the daemon prince and attack it with a scythe of all things. Moving faster than his eyes could see, the daemon and the blue figure exchanged blows for a few seconds before the former unleashed it's fire breath, forcing the blue figure to quickly move out of the way.

The figure landed next to Erhardt and Rory, and the prince was finally able to get a good look at it. She was humanoid, but with draconic wings, clawed feet, and blue skins with a few scales here and there. She was also dressed in very revealing white clothes, that left little to the imagination.

"Mercury!" she said, "Stop flirting with the mortal and help me fight! Whatever that thing is, it's a hell of a lot tougher than it looks!"

"With pleasure Giselle." Rory replied with a blood thirsty grin, lifting her huge axe one handed and leaping into battle, followed closely by Giselle.

Using whatever powers she had at her disposal, Rory jumped into the air to where the daemon was, and swung her mighty axe; not at the daemon, but at the rock platform it was floating on, forcing both opponents to land.

Erhardt had no time to ponder over what had just happened; the enemy was still closing in after all.

He kicked his horse into action, charging the enemy, hacking and hewing with his sword.

A stray arrow hit his horse in the eye, sending both mount and rider to the ground. Erhardt, his head ringing from the fall, quickly stood up, just in time to block a blow from a bandit's sword. Still disoriented from his fall, it was all he could do to keep the bandit from butting him in between his armor plates.

Finally, as the dizziness began to abate, Erhardt got the upper hand. He knocked aside the bandit's attack, and kneed the ruffian in the stomach, forcing him to drop to his knees. Erhardt then kicked him in the face with his armored boot, breaking the bandit's nose and knocking out a few teeth. Erhardt then finished him off by driving his sword through the bandit's throat, before pulling it back out.

breathing heavily, Erhardt looked around him at the battle. To say that things were chaotic would be the mother of all understatements. The front ranks of his army had dissolved into a brutal melee with the bandits, the Empire's prized discipline breaking down.

Out of the corner of his eye, Erhardt saw a volley of arrows come his way. Cursing under his breath, he raised his sword arm to cover his face, only for the arrows to be knocked out of the sky with a burst of air and fall to the ground uselessly.

"Are you alright Prince?"

Erhardt turned around and saw Myuute, the mutant who had defected from the bandits, approach him, knife drawn, followed by a group of Emprie greatswords, Reiksguard knights, and a band of demihumans dressed in the colors of House Formal, Italica's rulers.

"The air blast," Erhardt began, "Was that you?"

"Yes." she answered with a nod, "I'm a siren, that means have connection with the spirits of wind an air."

"Then stay close to us." he replied, gesturing to his men, "We could use that skill of yours to keep ourselves from becoming pin cushions."

Myuute nodded, "Of course."

"My Prince!" a greatsword exclaimed as he stepped in front of Erhardt and, with one swing of his sword, took off the head of another bandit that had been sneaking up behind Erhardt.

"My thanks!" Erhardt shouted, "Now, let's make our way back to our lines! If we push any further, I fear we'll be swallowed up by the enemy's ranks!"

* * *

Duran could not believe his eye when he saw that... thing... the thing that had killed dozens of his men so easily, fight not merely one, but two Apostles of the Gods!

The Apostles of Emroy and hardy, fighting together, an amazing feat itself, had forced the monster to the ground, where it was using both sword and staff to fend them off, all the while killing any man, elf, dwarf, or demihuman who wandered too close.

When the boy prince had revealed they faced a threat called 'Chaos,' Duran had dismissed it. Of course the enemy was both numerous and dangerous, but to label them as the sworn nemesis against all that was good an decent in the world? The boy was spouting exaggerations, he had to be.

Just what sort of foe was this Chaos?

While he was looking at the fight before him, he did not notice the pink monster jump at him until it was too late. The monster knocked him off his horse, and began to claw at his armor. Duran tried to crawl to where he had dropped his sword, only for the monster to grab hold of his leg with it's skinny arms, and drag him closer to it.

"Come on then beast!" Duran shouted as he drew a dagger and stabbing it into the monster's body repeatedly, "Come and see how the King of Elbe fights!"

It reached out with one of it's bony pink arms and grabbed his knife arm. With a single twist, it broke his arm at the elbow.

Duran barely had enough time to let out a scream before it balled it's demonic hand into a fist, aimed at his face, and brought it down.

After that, everything was dark.

* * *

One swing of Jhuin's sword killed a score of men, but it missed Rory, who moved with an unnatural speed, much to the daemon prince's frustration. Giselle moved just as fast, dodging his sword blows and his magic, while striking at him with her scythe.

The daemon was becoming annoyed; and there were few things more dangerous in existence than drawing the ire of a Daemon Prince of Tzeentch.

Pouring all his magical power into his staff, he raised it into the air, and summoned a lightning storm. Bolts of purple energy fell down from the air, striking many of the surrounding humans, making no distinction between bandits, Italicans, Elbans, or Reiklanders.

Not a single one hit either apostle.

"Is that the best you can do?" Giselle goaded the daemon as she brandished her scythe, "Your aim is worsening you chicken! Were you even trying to hit us?"

" ** _No_**." Jhuin said in a voice that spoke in a thousand voices.

Giselle was surprised at that response. What in the name of her goddess did he mean by-

She heard sickening crunches and moaning come from behind her. Eyes wide, she turned around and saw the men who the daemon had struck with it's magic. The men were not dead, but their bodies were mutating horribly, right before the apostles eyes. Limbs shifted into claws and tentacles, extra faces with needle sharp teeth grew in seconds, men were becoming monsters.

 **" _Kill them both_!"** Jhuin shouted, and the mass of newborn Chaos spawn shambled, crawled, and ran towards the Apostles.

"Do you really think these can kill us?" Rory asked as she bisected a spawn with one swing, before being swarmed by a mob of monsters/

 ** _"No,"_** Jhuin said as he leaped into the air, landed next to the Apostle, and impaled Rory on his sword, ** _"But they will keep you still for me."  
_**  
"Mercury!" Giselle yelled as he wings propelled her towards the daemon and Rory. She swung her scythe, and took off Jhuin's sword arm at the elbow. The daemon screamed in pain, dropping his staff and grabbing his stump. Those closest to the daemon covered their ears at the piercing scream, while some passed out, eyes rolling into the backs of their heads.

Giselle ran over to the prone Rory, set down her scythe, and used both hands to pull the large sword out of her fellow Apostle.

"You alive Mercury?" Giselle asked as she threw the sword away, "That looked like it hurt."

"It was just a flesh wound." Rory replied as she struggled to her feet, "I must say though, whatever that sword was made out of, it made me feel unbelievable pain."

"Well, it won't be using that anymore." Giselle said as she picked up both their weapons before handing the axe back to Rory, "I took his sword arm. It's just a stump now-"

Jhuin roared again. Out of his elbow stump came three fleshy tentacles, writhing as if each had a mind of it's own. Then it engulfed itself in blue flames.

Jhuin set his hateful eye on the Apostles, grabbed his staff, and then started walking towards them, chanting in it's dark language.

"I think you may have spoken too soon." Rory said as she readied her axe.

"I might have." Giselle agreed., leveling her scythe.

* * *

Pina stabbed with her blade, taking a bandit in the throat. She and her Rose Knights had been leading a division of Italican guardsmen in defense of the right flank for the past half hour, fighting waves of bandits, with no end in sight.

"Keep fighting!" she shouted, raising her sword into the air, "For Italica! For Sadera!"

"For Italica! For Sadera!" came the cry from the soldiers under her command.

"Princess, look!" Norma shouted as he pointed with his sword.

Following the direction of where the sword was pointing, Pina saw what had caught Norma's attention.

A man riding a horse, flanked by nine warriors, each bearing the eight pointed star.

It was Flavius and his nine officers, finally _gracing_ the battlefield with their presence.

"It appears that the gods favor us this day." Pina said as she grabbed a lance, "It seems that we get the honor of killing the enemy's commander. Rose Knights! Prepare to charge!"

* * *

With every swing of his whip like tentacle arm, Jhuin sent entire mobs of humans flying.

"Well, cutting off it's limbs didn't work!" Giselle yelled to Rory as the two apostles dodged Jhuin's attacks with their divine speed, "What do we do now?"

"We aim for it's head!" Rory cried out as one tentacle grazed her cheek, drawing blood, "I doubt even it can survive a beheading!"

"I hope you're right Mercury, and it does kill him," Giselle said as she lept into the air before another tentacle smashed the earth beneath her, "instead of making him grow two heads like a hydra!"

"Do you have any better ideas?"

"No."

"Then take this monster's head!"

* * *

The wind in his face, a lance in his hand, and a galloping horse between his legs.

Flavius was in paradise.

All had gone wrong. He was enslaved by a daemon, his army little more than warm bodies to throw at the enemy, and all promise of a crown and a kingdom dashed before his eyes.

At least he still had battle. No god, daemon, or treacherous adviser could take that from him.

He also had the satisfaction of watching the Apostles take Jhuin's arm. The sight of that made him feel warm inside.

It also gave him an idea.

If the apostles could kill the daemon, that was uncertain. That they were distracting the monster, that was beyond all doubt. This was an opportunity from Tzeentch, and Flavius would have to be a fool not to take it.

This was Flavius' only chance to take back control of his army; and what better way to do that than to take the city himself?

So he gathered his finest men, those who had followed him into the worship of the Raven God, mounted their horses, and charged into battle.

They outnumbered the enemy, but it was the devastating artillery that kept Flavius from his prize of Italica.

He needed to silence the artillery... silence them, and his army could overrun the enemy. They could take Italica.

Most importantly, everyone would know that it was he, Flavius, who accomplished this, not the damned daemon.

He and his men trampled over the foe with their horses, or skewered them with their lances. He was in his element now, and none could stand before him.

Ahead of him, he saw a group of knights carrying a rose banner, and despite himself, he laughed.

The Rose Order; pet project of Emperor Molt's bastard daughter, made up of highborn girls playing at being men. It would be a waste of time to kill them.

Although... what better sacrifice could he offer to Tzeentch than one who carried the blood of Emperor's in her veins, even if it was diluted by common blood?

With an unspoken command, Flavius turned his horse towards Princess Pina and her Rose Knights, and his men followed, eager to kill.

A few seconds later, the two groups of riders crashed into each other in a bloody mess of tangled limbs and lances.

* * *

There was no time to think; only to act.

With her lance thrusting forward, Pina managed to bypass the shield and impale one of Flavius' men in the chest, knocking him completely off his horse, though her weapon splintered as a result.

Throwing it away, she drew her sword and parried the blows being rained down on her by another of Flavius' riders. It took all of her training to keep man from killing her. The enemy was a good swordsman, and while Pina was trained by the best instructors money could buy, it was nothing compared to the experience possessed by this mercenary.

The man was better than her; she knew it, and he knew it. That knowledge made the man arrogant; he didn't take her seriously. All her life, people did not take her seriously. She had always resented that, always longed to be seen and to be judged as a worthy knight and a soldier, and always looked down both due to her gender, her youth, and her title.

However, she learned something from all the jeers, and the disrespect she had suffered over the years. Men who did not take her seriously did not fight with all their might, and all their skill. Why waste the effort on a spoiled girl who was playing at being soldier after all? They became sloppy around her.

She, on the other hand, always fought with everything she had.

There. With that last parry, he left an opening.

She took her chance, and stabbed with her blade, taking him in the throat. Behind his helmet, Pina could hear him gasping for breath. She pulled out her blade and left him to choke on his own blood.

"Norma!" she called out, "Knights of the Rose Order! To me!"

"They are all dead Princess."

She turned her head and saw Flavius, flanked by five of his riders. Behind him were the dead bodies of her Rose Knights; men and women she had known for years.

She tightened her grip on her sword. There was no way she was going to get out of this alive; if she was going to die though, she was going to take that son of a bitch with her first!

"Whoreson!" she cried out, "You killed my friends, but I swear before all the gods that I will take your life before this day is done!"

"Oh Princess," Flavius said, "You took the words out of my mouth. You and your childhood friends have killed four of my best men; men I've served with for years. Still though, you'e much more valuable to me breathing for now; so I may honor my god later."

He nodded to one of his riders, "Take her alive."

The rider kicked his horse and charged at her. Pina readied her sword, determined to kill him, and any other minion that Flavius would send against her; she would die fighting before allowing her self to be taken alive!

The rider was halfway to her when a rider came from his left, and took of his head with a single swing of his sword.

"Princess Pina!" Erhardt, the Outlander Prince said as he trotted his horse beside her, his sword covered in the rider's blood, "Fancy meeting you here."

"I could have taken him." she said, aware of how petty she sounded, but not really caring.

"Of that I have no doubt." Erhardt replied, "Still though, I'll not pass a chance to kill the enemy leader. I brought some friends to assist us in that task by the way."

He pointed behind her with his sword, and Pina turned her head to see a mixed band of Italican guardsmen, demihuman warriors of House Formal, and the Prince's Outlander knights and soldiers

"Well, I will not say no to addition blades." Pina admitted, before narrowing her eyes, "Still, he killed my knights. My honor demands that I take his head."

"You still have to deal with his remaining bodyguards though." Erhardt said, eyeing FLavius' four surviving riders, "Allow me to help you with that."

Erhardt held up a hand and waved two fingers. Several of his knights came forward, leveling their lances at Flavius' men.

"We are with you Princess." Erhardt said, "Give the order."

"Consider it given!" Pina replied, kicking her horse forward, followed closely by Erhardt and his men.

* * *

Sitting atop the hill, the old man watched the battle unfold, even though his sight had long since left him.

"The Silent Screamer fights the false Apostles," he said as the milky white raven landed on his shoulder, "and Flavius faces the children of emperors... all goes as the Great Deceiver wishes it."

The raven screeched once, and then took off into the air.

The old man sighed, "Yes... this battle has served it's purpose."

He stood up, leaning on his staff for support.

"It is time to return home."

He scarcely took a step when he heard the sound of a horse approaching.

"You old bastard!" the mercenary screamed as he held out his axe while he charged at the old man, "You brought this upon us! Now face Emroy's justice and meet Hardy in hell!"

The old man held out his free hand, palm facing the sky, and blue flame appeared in his palm.

He then turned around and threw the fire at his attacker, setting both horse and rider alight in the flames of Tzeentch, sending them both crashing to the ground, doomed to die an excruciating death.

"All are pawns to the Great Deceiver." he said as the raven returned to his shoulder, "And you were such a useful one too Flavius.

"Thank you for your dedication to our god. Now, fulfill your final task, and die for his glory."

* * *

Though the battle had started well for the allies, the appearance of the daemons had drastically changed things in favor of the brigands. The artillery brigades still fired, and the lines still stood, but the sheer numbers of the brigands and the presence of daemons ensured that the resolve of men wavered in the face of such evil.

It was in this moment of battle such that Father Wilhelm found his purpose; to inspire the men of the Empire to stay strong.

And what better way to do so than through example?

"IN SIGMAR'S NAME!" Wilhelm shouted as he brought down his holy warhammer upon the head of a daemon, "Give these vermin not an inch! In the name of the Heldenhammer!"

The pink monster's skull cracked open, spilling ichor everywhere. Wilhelm withdrew his hammer and slammed it into a brigand's chest, pulverizing his enemy's ribcage.

"The Light of Sigmar shines through me!" Wilhelm chanted as he held his hammer over his head in one hand, "And through me I shall fear no darkness!"

A brigand charged the priest with a spear leveled at his chest. Moving with a speed that belied his full plate and two handed warhammer, Wilhelm parried the spearhead with his hammer before he smashed the head of his hammer into the face of it's wielder. He the grabbed the dead body and held it in front of him, using it as a meatshield to prevent a series of arrows from hitting him.

"He is the rock upon which the unclean will be broken!" He chanted as he threw the body to the ground and fought his way threw another group of brigands, "He is the tempest!"

An ogre like creature, wielding an axe as big as Wilhelm's torso attacked the war priest. Wilhelm dodged one swing before bringing the hammer down on the ogre's outstretched arm, shattering it at the elbow.

"Abide not the filth of Chaos!" he said as he then struck the ogre's knee, splintering bone and forcing it to the ground, screaming, "Suffer it not to defile your land! Tolerate it not, whatever guise it may take!"

He raised the hammer above his head with both hands, and brought it's head down upon the ogre's skull, obliterating it.

Behind Wilhelm, the men both from Reikland and the natives heard Wilhelm's words over the battle, and saw hi, defeat the ogre. The hearts of the Reiklanders steeled themselves, for in the form of Father Wilhelm, they knew that Sigmar was with them, and it was with this knowledge that they let out a great cheer.

While the Italicans and their Elban allies knew not what the fierce, bald outlander was speaking, but they knew the intent of his words, and they found heart as well, joining their own cheers to the Reiklanders.

Wilhelm heard their cheers, and knew he had done his job.

Now he needed to keep it up.

His hard gaze looked across the battlefield, seeking more daemons to slay. It took him but a second to find the leader of this horde; a huge daemon with a raven's head, and hideous mutations. It was fighting a young girl that moved with superhuman like speed and strength, and some sort of mutant with draconic features.

That was the beast he needed to kill. That was how these heathens worked; cut off their head, and the rest of the army would turn on each other.

With it's death, the rest of this Chaos host would crumble, and their victory would be assured.

"The voice of the daemon is heard in our land!" he said as he ran forward towards a mounted brigand, knocking him off his horse with his hammer and leaping onto the animals back before directing it towards the daemon prince, "It shall not be allowed to endure! It shall not profane the dominion of our Lord Sigmar with its obscenity!"

As he rode forward, Wlhelm clutched his hammer icon, and it began to glow a white hot light.

* * *

Rory cursed under her breath as the daemon parried her blow with it's magic staff. Whatever that thing was made out of, it was strong enough to take her steel, forged by a smith blessed by a god. While she thrived in battle, this combat was dragging on for far too long. While some would uncharitably paint her as a mindless berserker who took pleasure in battle (which was true) she was not ignorant of tactics and how armies fought. The Italicans, Elbans, and the Outlanders had less troops than the pawns of the Trespasser God, and unless she killed this monster soon, they would be overrun.

Easier said than done though for even with Giselle by her side, this monster was putting up a hell of a fight.

" ** _Fools_**!" it shouted at them, speaking in a thousand voices and one, " ** _You have no hope against one such as I! I am Jhuin, the Silent Screamer! In my mortal life, I was a mighty sorceror, who brought armies to their knees! In blessed daemonhood, I am among the most favored of Tzeentch! Before me, you are nothing_**!"

"Repel, O Sigmar, this Servant of Change!"

Rory and Giselle turned their heads towards the voice that spoke those words. It was an outlander riding a horse towards them. He wielded a warhammer in one hand, while the other was grasped around something that hanged off his neck.

"Dispel such fallacies from this unholy form!" he continued, and his hammer began to glow red, "I invoke Your Name to repel this abomination. Not by my strength, but by Yours, Lord Sigmar, let this heresy be ended!"

The man raised his hammer, and shot holy fire at Jhuin. Rory was surprised; from his words, he sounded like a priest of some sort, but he was capable of magic? Perhaps mages and priests were one and the same in their world.

" ** _ARGH_**!" Jhuin screamed in pain before lashing out with a tentacle, killing the Outlander's horse and sending the man crashing to the ground, " ** _Weakling servant of the Man-God! You are but a distraction! I will kill you first_**!"

"Mere words foul beast!" the man shouted as he shakily raised himself to one knee, bleeding from the top of his head, "Know that before I die though, I will see you back to the hell you came from first!"

Jhuin snarled and made his way towards the human, who was standing there, grasping both his hammer and his pendant.

"Lord Sigmar, Hear My Prayer," he began, closing his eyes "Let Not My Weapon Fail Me, But Strengthen It Against the Foe."

The priest was casting another spell, that much was obvious. Rory turned her head to Giselle, nodded once, and darted forward, followed closely by Hardy's Apostle, as she resumed their attack on Jhuin. The daemon stopped advancing on the priest and devoted his full attention once again towards the apostles.

The priest was going to cast another spell; a big one this time. It needed time though, and Rory would buy him all the time he needed.

"Give My Blade Your Wisdom, to Cleave the Guilty From The Innocent!" the priest continued, and his whole body was enveloped in a white light, "Let Your Holy Fire Infuse the Powder to Burn in the Eyes of the Heretic Keep Your Hand on Mine, Sigmar, So That My Grip And My Faith Will Not Slip My Arm Shall Strike in Thy Name, Against the Heretic, the Witch, the Unclean, Amen!"

A beam of light came down from the heavens and struck the priest. All fighters closest to them turned and saw the priest, surrounded by holy light, stand tall, his eyes burning with literal fire.

"HELDENHAMMER!" he shouted as he ran forward to the daemon. Jhuin tried to lash out with his tentacles, but they were severed by a swing of Giselle's scythe and Rory's axe. Jhuin roared in pain again, and lashed out with his staff, using it was a club, but the two apostles quickly jumped out of the way.

The priest closed the distance between himself and Jhuin, and when he was close enough to touch the monster, he swung his warhammer, glowing with holy power, and brought it into Jhuin's abdomen. An explosion of energy sent both human and daemon flying back, where both landed hard on the ground. After a few seconds on his back, Jhuin stood up, his blue flesh horribly burned, and what passed for blood dribbled down the corners of his beak.

"Well, at least it's hurt." Rory said as she readied her axe.

 _ **"Human filth!"**_ Jhuin cursed _ **"Damn you! I will steal your soul, and make you pay for this transgression a thousand times over!"**_

"You two!"

Rory looked towards the priest, who was struggling to stand, "Through the power of Sigmar, I have weakened the beast for you! You must kill it now!"

" ** _Silence_**!" Jhuin roared as his tentacles began to grow back, slower this time, but when fully regenerated they still be just as deadly.

The apostles would not allow him the chance.

Using their gods given gifts, Rory and Giselle darted forward. Gielle took up position behind the injured Jhuin, and with a single swing of her scythe, cut through his legs at the knees. Roaring at this indignity, Jhuin fell forward, dropping his staff, and landing on his front. Using his one good arm, Jhuin lifted himself up, and came eye to eye with Rory, who was giving him the widest, most bloodthirsty grin she could manage.

"When you get to hell, tell them that Rory the Reaper sent you." she said as she raised her axe over her head.

Jhuin said nothing, but opened his beak, blue flames beginning to come out. Rory was faster though, and brought her axe down between the daemon prince's eyes, bisecting his head completely.

Every living thing on the battlefield felt Jhuin's defeat. The hearts and will of the defenders were raised, and the fought with a new vigour. The attacking brigands began to panic; without the powerful daemon, how were they to win now?

Flavius Ha Iulius, was in the middle of a horseback swordfight with Princess Pina when he felt Jhuin's death.

"At last." he whispered, "My army is mine once again!"

This realization only laster for a split second, but it was a distraction; one that Pina took full advantage of.

The opening Flavius left left his throat wide open. Pina thrusted with her sword and stabbed the would be king in the throat.

Flavius began chocking on his own blood as he dropped his weapon, his eyes looking disbelievingly at Pina's sword, lodged in his throat, and then at Pina herself. The girl had a look of hatred, and of triumph, in her eyes as she withdrew her sword. Flavius fell off his horse, and crashed onto his back onto the ground. With great pain and great effort, he looked around him and saw that the Outlanders were killing his inner circle; his closest friends and followers.

They had followed him into the worship of Tzeentch, into a hopeful future where they could live like kings, and overthrow the corrupt nobles in Sadera... instead though, he led them to their deaths, along with the rest of his army.

 _'It's not fair_...' he though as he saw Pina stand over him, _'It's just not fair... My brothers and sisters... please, forgive me..."  
_  
"This is for my friends, and for everyone else you killed." Pina said as she raised her sword above him.

Then there was a flash of steel, and Flavius saw no more.

A few yards away, Prince Erhardt Franz watched Pina execute Flavius with an approving look on his face.

"I think I'm in love." he said under his breath.

"What was that my Prince?" Siegfried asked as he rode up beside Erhardt, "I did not catch that."

"Never mind Siegfried." Erhardt said, perhaps a bit too hastily, "What matters is that Flavius is dead, and his daemons too. The enemy is leaderless; now is the time to press out attack! Rally our captains and send the word to the asur and the dawi; it's time we go on the offensive!"

* * *

While the fighting lasted another few hours, it could hardly even be charitably called a battle anymore. With both their leader, and the daemon Jhuin dead, the brigands fractured, with some groups surrendering, and others running for the hills. Few stood their ground and fought, and those that did died quickly under Imperial blades.

 _'Thousands of my men are dead though,'_ Erhardt said as he walked through the field hospital that had been set up behind Italica's walls, followed closely behind by his Reiksguard protectors, _'And even more were injured; the Sisters of Shallya would be busy tonight, as well as the Priests of Morr.'_

"M-my Prince..."

Erhardt looked down and saw a man in greatsword garb on a cot, reaching out to him with his left arm; for his right arm had been amputated beneath his armpit.

"Easy friend," Erhardt began, kneeling down next to the man, taking his hand in his own, "Easy, you must rest; you've suffered a grievous wound."

"I know." he said, tears welling up in his eyes, "I'm not going to live my Prince... I'm not going to live."

"Don't say that." Erhardt said, "We have Sisters here who can-"

"No, I'm due for the Garden." he interrupted; normally, a common soldier would never dare to interrupt a noble, let alone a a Griffon Prince of Reikland.

In this moment though, Erhard cared not for etiquite. One of his soldeirs was dying.

"Was this worth it Prince?" the greatsword asked, "Was this city worth our blood, and our lives?"

"I..." Erhardt began, "I... do not know if this city will prove to be worth your sacrifice. I do know, however, that we defeated an army of heathen Chaos worshipers. That is worth any price."

"I see... dying to stop Chaos... that's not so bad. That's not bad at all..."

"What's your name soldier?"

"Vogel sir... Sergeant Josef Vogel."

"Sergeant Vogel, is there anything I can do for you in your final moments?" Erhardt asked, trying to hold back tears.

"I-I couldn't ask it of a Prince-"

"For this moment, I am not your Prince; just your brother-in-arms."

"Then... could you pray with me Prince Erhardt."

"I will Vogel." Erhardt said, before closing his eyes.

"In Sigmar's name, we pray..."

* * *

 _Three days after the Battle of Italica_

"There they go." Siegfried said from the back of his horse, "Long way back to Elbe."

Erhardt merely grunted as he watched the battered remains of the Elban army march out of Italica. They had lost half their army, including their king. Erhardt did not personally care for Duran, but he fought against the Ruinous Powers, and that deserved respect. The Elbans were taking the body of their king with them, pulled on the back of a wagon, while his mutilated face was covered with a gold burial mask, which showed the features he had in life.

"Of course, they weren't the only ones who suffered great losses." Siegfried whispered, "The final death tolls have come in my Prince."

"Well, out with it then; how many did we lose?"

"... Close to three thousand."

Erhardt closed his eyes and sighed. Three thousand men of the Reik, dead on another world, defending people who were technically the enemy. Those were losses he had to replace, and fast, if he ever wanted to take more land and defend Alnus Hill from the Saderans, as well as more funds and supplies to maintain his army.

"Send messengers to Altdorf." Erhardt ordered, "As much as it pains me, ask my father for more supplies, so we can feed our people, at least until the farms start producing crops."

"You do not wish to ask for more manpower?" Siegfried asked.

Erhardt shook his head, "If I know my father, he won't have any regiments to spare for at least a season. No, we shall have to get our men through... other means."

"You have an idea?"

"I have several. I'll bring them up during the next council meeting."

Pina stood over the three caskets carrying the bodies of her knights; Norma, Flavia, and Lucretia. All were childhood friends, and among the first to join her order.

They will all be sorely missed.

Of the knights Pina had brought with her to Italica, only her squire, Hamilton Uno Ror, and her mentor, Grey Co Aldo, had survived, though Grey was wounded and currently bedridden.

"The Elbans are leaving, Your Highness." Bozes Co Palesti, Pina second-in-command and closest fried, said from behind her, "They've taken the body of King Duran with them."

"As is their right." Pina replied, finally taking her eyes away from the caskets, before facing Bozes, "The Kings of Elbe have always been buried in their ancestral crypts. It would not do to break with that tradition."

Bozes, a gorgeous girl with long blonde hair done in a drill style, nodded. She and the rest of the Rose Knights had arrived yesterday, when the fighting had already been done, much to the Order's shame.

Although late, Pina was glad all the same for the presence of friendly faces, especially with the Outlanders around.

"Bozes." Pina began, before walking out of the room containing the caskets, "You have had a chance to meet them; what do you make of the Outlanders?"

"They are a grim lot, aren't they?" Bozes answered, following close behind Pina, "All those skulls on their armor. They're dangerous though, especially with their... 'guns,' I believe the name is."

"On that, we agree." Pina replied as they made their way through the busy Italican streets.

"I am curious as to what their plans for the prisoners are." Bozes said, "To question the surviving officers is one thing, but why would their... 'Witch Hunter' need to interrogate each and every one of them?"

"Something about 'corruption,' whatever that means. Just sell them into slavery and be done with it."

"Regardless, I do not feel at ease with ten thousand Outlanders within and outside the walls of Italica, especially with their intentions unknown."

"Dear Bozes, it's obvious what their intentions are." Pina said, "They wish to conquer land, and win glory, the same as my father when he sent an army through the Gate."

"If that is the case Princess, then should we not leave? If they wanted to take Italica now, they could very well do so with little effort, and use you as a bargaining chip against your father the Emperor."

"They will not do that." Pina said confidantly, "They have their honor. In any event, I am working out a deal with the Prince and the Countess that should guarantee our safety and the lives of this city."

"Really?"

"Yes. Italica will become a sort of neutral ground between Sadera and the Outlanders. We can meet here, and in the future, come to some sort of peace agreement."

"Peace?" Bozes asked, shocked, "You don't think we can defeat the Outlanders in open battle?"

"Perhaps." Pina admitted, "But it would cost many lives. They may have ten thousand men here, but only the gods know for certain how many more armies they have on the other side, and if they have even more frightening weapons."

""Do you think this prince would agree to a peace?"

"If he is intelligent, he will."

"And if he is not?"

"Then when the war is renewed, I shall kill him myself."

* * *

"My advisers have informed me, Lord Kregan, that you seek the location of other dwarves?" Countess Formal asked from her throne.

"Aye, that is the long and short of it." Kregan responded.

"Well, assisting you in this matter is the least we can do to repay you for your defense of our city." Formal said with a smile, "THough if you would indulge me; why do you wish to now?"

"My King is curious on whether or not they exist, and if they do, are they our kin?"

"Your kin? I do not understand."

"You have already confirmed that a race calling themselves or called dwarfs live in these lands. They may even look like us. However, they question remains if they are like they are our kin. For that, I must find them, and meet with them."

"I see." Formal said, "In that case, I will have my historians bring you all they know of the last known location of the dwarves."

"What do you mean by that?" Kregan asked, "Have no dwarves been seen for some time?"

"Individuals here and there Lord Kregan, but none in any great number. Some centuries ago, during the reign of Emperor Gaius Luna Scipio, a cgreat calamity was visited upon the dwarves of the western mountains. Their halls now stand empty, and the survivors scattered. They now lead a nomadic existence, on the outskirts of the Empire. If you seek them, I am afraid that you have your work cut out for you."

"Well Countess, the reality of the world is that nothing worthwhile is ever easy."

"Truer words have never been spoken Lord Kregan."

* * *

"Captain Vanon! Captain, please, open up!"

Vanon groaned as he opened his eyes and rolled off of Tuka, sat up, and put on his robe It was the middle of the night; what could be so damn important?

"Vanon?" Tuka asked groggily, blinking away the sleep from her eyes, "What's going on?"

Vanon leaned forward and kissed her head, "I will find out. Go back to sleep."

Tuka nodded and pulled the covers over her naked body. Vanon walked over to the door, hand reaching out to open it when it opened on the other side, and the young elf was greeted to the sight of a displeased Prince Madir.

"Captain." Madir said sternly, glaring contempt at a now awake Tuka, "I had hoped to converse with you in private, but I see that your... companion is here. Meet me in my tent at once."

"Yes my Prince." Vanon responded, though the words barely left his mouth before Madir had already turned on his heel and walked away.

Vanon turned to Tuka who was making a face as if she had stepped in something foul.

"I really do not care for him." she said.

"He is of Caledor." Vanon explained as he began putting clothes, "Pride is in their nature."

"He's an ass." Tuka said unapologetically, "And he hates me."

"He doesn't hate you. Like I said, he's Caledorian; he treats everyone like that."

"No, I can tell. He thinks he's better than everyone, but he looks at me like I am less than an animal."

Vanon sighed as he sat down on the bed and wrapped an arm around Tuka, who leaned into him.

"I promise you, we won't have to deal with him for much longer. If you'd prefer it, you can stay with my family for the time being. I know that my mother and sisters would love to get to know you better."

"No." Tuka said as she shook her head, "If occasionally dealing with the 'glorious' Prince Madir is the price I have to pay to spend time with you, then it's one that I'm willing to pay."

"I love you."

"I know."

"It is about time you arrived." Madir said with a sneer as he stood at a table in the middle of his tent, outside of Italica. The Prince was looking over a map of Ulthuan, "I hope your commonborn mistress is not distracting you from your duties."

"Tuka is not my mistress Prince Madir." Vanon tried to explain, but said nothing more when Madir glared at him.

"Whatever she is to you, it does not matter. The defense of Ulthuan is what is important."

"My Prince?"

"Several days ago, a small fleet of Druchii vessels landed on the shore of the Shadowlands. As we speak, a small army of the Witch King's servants make their way to the Arch. Therefore, I am recalling every one of my warriors from this side of the Archway, and redeploying them to Ulthuan."

"I will prepare my warriors for the march right away."

"Good. One more thing."

"My Prince?"

"I do not wish to see that girl with you when you return to my command. Leave her behind, or send her away. You've had your fun, now it's time for a return to reality Captain."

Vanon clenched his fists but said nothing. He could not speak back to Prince Madir, nor disobey him.

 _'It looks as if you will be spending time with my family after all Tuka.'_ Vanon thought to himself as he saluted Madir.

* * *

Erhardt looked up as soon as the door opened, and was greeted with the sight of a greatsword.

"Prince Erhardt? The mutant is here to see you."

"Send her in." Erhardt replied from behind his desk. The rooms given to him by Countess Formal were spacious, and had separate rooms for both a bed, and an office.

The greatsword nodded and stood back to let the siren, Myuute, through, closing the door behind her.

"You wished to see me my Lord?" Myuute asked, nervously twiddling her thumbs. Erhardt said nothing but took the siren's appearance in. She looked mostly human, were it not for the green, featherlike hair on her head and arms, or the birdlike talons she had in place of feet. Still though, she was quite attractive, if one could look past the obvious mutations.

"Be at ease Myuute, I merely have questions to ask you."

"Of course my Lord."

"How long were you aware of Flavius' new, dark religion?"

"Less than a day. He always kept his personal life under wraps. With the exception of his officers, no one in the army knew he was worshiping this... Chaos."

"If you had to guess, how long would you say it had been since he 'converted' for lack of a better word."

"A month or two, at most."

"I see... so shortly after the end of the Alnus siege then."

"Yes my Lord."

"Hmm... that is interesting. No doubt the Witch Hunters will discover similar stories from amongst the prisoners."

"Witch Hunters, my Lord?"

"The grim men in the tall hats. It is their job to root out corruption and evil in whatever form in may take, and then destroy it."

"So, if they find signs of corruption among the prisoners, they'll kill them? Not sell them into slavery?"

"We do not deal in slaves where we come from Myuute. Still though, if this were any other instance, we would have found some use for them as laborers. However, the Ruinous Powers are involved, and I dare not take any chance. The WItch Hunters will interview the survivors, and if any of them are found to be impure... well, the Templars of Sigmar will burn them at the stake."

Myuute's face turned pale, "Will... will I be interviewed?"

"There is no need." Erhardt shook his head, "Father Wilhelm already looked you over when you first joined us and found you to be spiritually pure, despite your appearance."

"You mean my 'mutations?' as your people are calling them?" Myuute asked with a disapproving look, "I've said it already, but I am not a mutant. I am a siren."

"I know, you belong to a race of demihumans, as Cato has tried to get across to me many a time." Erhardt said, "It is clear to me now that you are no mutant. I will see to it that the rest of my men stop calling you that."

"Thank you my Lord." Myuute said with a slight bow. Sh then bit her bottom lip, looking as if she wanted to say something.

"You have the look of a woman who has something to say." Erhardt commented.

"It would be rude of me to-" Myuute began before Erhardt shook his head.

"Please, go ahead. You may speak your mind. It's the least I can do for saving my life."

"Very well then... my Lord, you wish to rule this land, correct?"

"I... Yes, that is correct." Erhardt admitted, not expecting the Siren to be so blunt.

"If you wish to rule, then you cannot afford to cut out half the population of these lands."

"You refer to the other demihumans."

"I do. My Lord, I cannot speak for whatever the circumstances are back in your homeland, but here in Falmart, my kind are not mutants. We are our own races, with our own traditions and cultures. We are not monsters. Think about it; should you accept demihumans into your new realm, you will have more farmers for your fields, workers for your towns, and soldiers in your armies. You cannot afford not to accept the demihumans if you wish to match Sadera."

"Why Myuute, are you offering your services to me?"

"In a way."

Erhardt said nothing, but stroked his chin. Myuute stood there silently. Did sh speak out of turn? Was the Outlander Prince angry?

"Your words... are rational." Erhardt admitted, "However, not all on my council will see it that way. I will have to try and sell it to them. At the very least, I will take you on as a retainer, as well as an expert in these lands, alongside Cato the Elder Sage."

"Thank you, my Lord."

"Do not thank me yet. I am sorry to say that you are in for quite a bit of work."

The door knocked again, and the greatsword entered once more.

"Yes, what is it?" Erhardt asked.

"I'm sorry Prince Erhardt, I know you are busy, but the Apostles-"

"Wish to talk." Rory Mercury said as she pushed the greatsword aside before setting her axe against the wall, then taking a seat across from Erhardt. Myuute was saying nothing, speechless at being in the presence of an Apostle.

"You are Rory Mercury, yes?" Erhardt asked, "Apostle of Emory?"

"You are correct Prince." Rory said with a smile that sent shivers down his spine, "I saved your life during the battle, if you recall."

"I do. I thank you for that, and would have done so sooner, but you disappeared after the battle was over, along with that other Apostle... Giselle was it? If you do not mind me asking, where did the two of you go?"

"We were hunting; specifically for the one who turned Flavius towards worship of the Dark Gods, and who summoned the monster."

"The man who corrupted Flavius?" Erhardt asked, recalling Myuute's descriptions of the old man who served as Flavius' adviser, "Did you find him?"

Rory shook her head, "Disappeared into thin air it seems. Giselle was particularly upset, and is currently drowning her sorrows at the local tavern. I as the older and more responsible Apostle, took up the responsibility of informing you."

"So he's still out there then, no doubt spreading his poison even further."

"He came from your world Prince," Rory exclaimed, "That makes him your responsibility just as much as ours."

"Yes, of course. Sigmar would want me to hunt him down an destroy him."

"Your Sigmar sounds like my kind of god." she commented with a smile, though this one was more genuine.

"Still though, how did he get though the Gate?" Erhardt asked, "It must have been when the Saderan's were in control. There's no way an Imperial would let him walk through-"

"He did not come through a Gate." Rory cut him off, "In fact, he's been here longer than Hardy's Gate has been open."

"What, how?"

"I am not sure, as the gods have been uncharacteristically quiet as off late, but what we do know is that this old man has been in Falmart for over a year now."

* * *

 _Northern Falmat, a week after the Battle of Italica_

The Old Man walked through the woods and the snow at a brisk pace. Though his robes were little more than tattered strips of cloth at this point, he gave no indication of being cold, and the heavy snow did not slow him down at all.

He suddenly stopped; his blind eyes scanning the trees closest to him.

"Come on out whelps, I know you are there." he said in a mocking tone.

Out from behind the trees stepped several tall youths, dressed in animal hides and carrying bows and arrows. The lead youth, barely twelve, stepped forward, gazing at the Old Man in hate.

"So you live Old Man." he said, "We all thought you were dead."

"Floki, is that you?" the Old Man asked in a voice that was a mockery of a concerned grandfather's, "I daresay that my survival was more likely than yours you little runt. Now then, take me to the King. I have much to discuss."

Floki said nothing, but nodded, turning around and leading the Old Man through the woods, until finally they reach the edge of the forest.

On the other side of the trees was a large camp, with thousands of tents and fires raging. Tall men walked through the camp, carrying huge weapons, and were adorned in the symbols of the gods.

As they made their way through the camp, the Old Man felt many eyes upon him. He knew that these barbarians hated him, but he delighted in the fact that they were unable to act on their hatreds, lest the incur the wrath of an even greater power.

Finally, they reached their destination; a wooden hall, made in part from the body of a great dragonship. Two warriors opened the doors, and let then inside.

"Father!" Floki called out, "The old wizard is here!"

At the other end of the hall there was a great throne built out of a skull of a giant monster. Sitting in it was a large man clad in plate armor forged by the Dawi Zharr in their Hellfire powered forges. On either side of him was a woman; a raven haired beauty on the right, with a cloak made of wolfskin and raven feathers, and to the left a warrior rabbit with a scar across one eye.

"King Ubbe Ivarson!" the Old Man said, "I bring news from the south; all go according to the Great Deciver's plans!"

"You honor the Raven God." the black haired woman said, "But how much longer must we wait?"

"I am with Siggy." the rabbit said with venom in her voice, "How much longer until we can kill Saderans?"

"Tzeentch has a plan, and-" the Old Man began only for the rabbit to interrupt.

"To hell with the plan!" she said, "Khorne desires blood, and he grows impatient!"

"Come now, Kalterina." the Old Man began in a soothing tone, "You will have your vengeance, soon, but the South must be made ready for the arrival of both your warriors and the Aeslings."

"Not good enough!" Kalterina growled, "I need to kill Saderans!"

"You will do no such thing." Ubbe said for the first time during the whole audience, and the room went silent, "We must all follow the plan. It is the will of the Gods... and of the Everchosen."

* * *

 _Elbe, two weeks after the Battle of Italica  
_  
"Well father, I must say, you have never looked better." the young man said as he looked over the body of his father, King Duran, "With your death, I have finally succeeded to the throne of Elbe. It was a long time coming."

They were in the royal crypts of the Kings of Elbe, where five hundred years of Elben Kings and a thousand more of dukes had been buried. It was nighttime, and the only light came from burning torches. Duran's body was laid on a stone slab. He would be buried in the morning, but for now, his body rested under a white shawl.

Duran's son, Prince Remus Elbe, was wearing a hooded black robe, s symbol of mourning in Elbe, but from the tone of his voice, he felt anything but sorrow at his father's passing.

"You've left me with quite a mess though." the prince admitted, "What with getting all of my soldiers killed first at Alnus, then at Italica. Elbe has never been weaker thanks to you, though the same can be said for all the Vassal Kingdoms. At least you had an heir who did not breath his last at Italica.

"That being said, you still can serve Elbe, even in death. You see, while you were gone getting killed, I made a deal with a... higher power. In exchange for obedience, I have been the power to unite all the southern Vassal Kingdoms into one empire. The plan is simple, but it will take some time to properly implement. For now though, rest. Although... I suppose a test run would not be uncalled for."

Remus pulled down his hood, and even in the torchlight, it was obvious that his skin was unnaturally pale, and when his grinned, his canines were far too long.

He held out his hands, and purple magic surrounded both himself, and the body of Duran. After a minute, the light died down, and Remus let his arms fall by his sides.

"Father... awaken."

Duran sat up; the white shawl slipping off his face, which was still covered by the golden deathmask.

"Good... now then father, sleep for now. You should be honored, for you will be the first of many of our bloodline to be raised in the near future, to serve me and my new allies in our conquests.

"For Elbe now belongs to the Midnight Aristocracy, and soon, the rest of Falmart will follow!"


	5. Chapter 5

_Fort Griffon, three months after the Battle of Italica_

"My Prince? It is time to wake up."

Erhardt opened his eyes and looked up at Siegfried, who was already dressed in his armor, while Erhardt's valet, Otto, stood behind the knight.

In the days shortly following the battle, Erhardt and Pina had agreed to turn Italica into neutral ground, so that the Empire and Sadera could meet without fear of violence. He had even managed to find buyers for the dragon scales, filling his coffers.

Both Prince and Princess had spent a few more days together, speaking about a possible ceasefire between Sadera and the Empire, with Pina promising to bring his request before the Saderan Senate. It was during those days that Erhardt discovered that Pina was quite charming; she was smart, witty, and above all loyal to her country. Not for the first time Erhardt bemoaned the fact that they were enemies, otherwise he would have seriously considered courting her. Alas, such was fate. If nothing else, he would not look for her on the field of battle.

Besides agreeing on what to do with Italica, the fates of the prisoners were decided; the Witch Hunters interrogated them all, a process that took several weeks, and found that most of them were not touched by Chaos. It seemed that the corruption was mostly contained to Flavius and his inner circle. Those found pure in body were given a choice; convert to Sigmar, be branded with the twin tailed comet, or be given to Italica and have their fate be decided by Countess Formal, though it was likely that they would be sold into slavery.

Most chose the comet.

The few that were found to be corrupted by Chaos were burnt at the stake. Outside the walls of Italica, a great pyre was constructed, with the condemned lead up to it, restrained with ropes, and covered burnt alive, the traditional punishment for heretics. Erhardt was in attendance, as were Pina and Countess Formal, and the Prince could not help but notice how uneasy they were at the site of seeing a man being burnt alive.

After several weeks in Italica, the army returned alone to Fort Griffon, Vanon and his elves returned to Ulthuan to face a Dark Elf threat, and Lord Kregan and his throng set off to the east, in search of other dwarves.

"Otto, I believed I instructed you to turn away anyone who came calling this morning." Erhardt complained as he tried to sit up, before realizing his arm was trapped under the body of the still asleep courtesan he had spent the night with. He slowly pulled his arm out from under her, and got out of bed, "Unless it was extremely important. Since you let in Siegfried, I'm guessing this is no trivial matter."

"It is not." Siegfried confirmed, "We have a visitor."

"Which side of the Gate?" the Prince asked as Otto began to dress him.

"He is from Altdorf." Siegfired explained.

"So, our side then." Erhardt interupted, "Who is he, and did my father send him?"

"He is Natter Bismark, a Lector of the Cult of Sigmar."

"Natter? You mean the ambitious priest?" Erhardt asked as Otto finished dressing him, "What's he doing here?"

"He would not go into detail." Siegfried said, "But he expressed a desire to speak with you in regards to a 'mutually beneficial arrangement.' His words, not mine."

Erhardt had heard of Natter; scion of old Nuln nobility, second only the the Electors in personal wealth. Instead of joining his brothers and sisters in the halls of power, he instead joined the priesthood, becoming a warrior priest of some renown for slaying a dragonogre While his skill on the battlefield was commendable, he faced criticism from his fellow priests for being more concerned with earthly pursuits. Though he left the palaces of his youth, he retained a shrewd political mind, and utilized his cunning to work his way up the ranks of the Cult, eventually reaching the rank of Lector.

As a Lector, Natter used his position to amass more power and money across the southern Empire, forging ties to both noble houses, merchant guilds, and, if on believed the rumors, sellsword companies and criminal organizations. He was corrupt, and ambitious; exactly the kind of priest that the firebrand Luthor Huss spoke out against.

Now, he was here, in Erhardt's fort.

"Well then, it would be rude of us to keep him waiting." Erhardt said before turning to Otto, using his head gesture in the direction of the still asleep courtesan "Pay the young lady for her services and serve her breakfast."

"At once My Prince." Otto said with a nod. With that, the two young men left the room.

"So, who was she?" Siegfried asked.

"Sofia. She's from Estalia." Erhardt said absentmindedly.

"I noticed she has red hair." Siegfried said slyly, "We are not pretending that she's someone else are we?"

"Take your mind out of the gutter Sir Siegfried." Erhardt commanded, "Focus on our guest."

"Guests, actually."

"He brought an entourage did he?"

"I would say that they are more similar to a bodyguard than an entourage. They are knights from the Order of the Ruby Cross."

"Ruby Cross... what do we know of them?"

"Strict Sigmarites who mostly operate in Wissenland. They hunt greenskins for sport. Natter is a patron of their order."

"I see, well, that would explain their presence here."

Eventually, the two men reached the Fort's grand hall, their destination, where Natter was waiting.

Natter was a tall man, dressed in the traditional armor of a warrior priest, but at the same time he had an ermine cloak draped over his shoulders, and the warhammer he kept strapped to his side was encrusted with both jewels and dwarfen runes. Beside him were knights in steel plate, with an Empire cross made of ruby melded to their chests and helms.

Natter heard their approaching footsteps and looked Erhardt in the ye; the Lector's green eyes staring deep into Erhardt's soul, it seemed.

"Prince Erhardt." Natter said in a smooth voice, "I thank you for receiving me."

"The honor is all mine Lector." Erhardt replied as he took his seat on his wooden throne, "Though I am curious as to what has brought a powerful Lector such as yourself all the way here to Alnus?"

"To spread the word of Sigmar, what else?" Natter replied, "Heldenhammer knows that these heathens need it."

"Interesting... and is that the only reason?"

"I have many goals that I wish to achieve here in these lands young Prince." Natter said, as he strolled over to one of the long tables, "However, all those goals ultimately benefit the Ur-Emperor."

"How noble of you Lector. WOuld you mind sharing these goals with me?"

"I would, if we were in a more private setting. Could that be arranged?"

"It can. We can continue in my office. Siegfried, would you mind leaving us alone?"

"Not at all My Prince." Siegfried said, but he shot Erhardt a look that all but said 'be careful'.

* * *

"So, now tat we are alone, please tell me what your plans are." Erhardt asked as he poured two goblets of wine for himself and for Natter.

"I am an ambitious man." Natter explained as he took the goblet, "And this new world presents an opportunity to increase my power within the Cult."

"How do you plan to do that?" Erhardt asked after a sip.

"Conversions, of course. This is a whole new continent waiting to hear the word of Sigmar Heldenhammer, by force if necessary."

"Father Wilhelm has been trying for months with little success. They have their own gods here in these lands, and they will not accept ours easily."

"With all due respect to Father Wilhelm, he is merely a war priest. I, on the other hand, have more than words to convince them with. In any case, converting the ignorant into the faithful is only one boon to our potential arrangement. There are other, more worldly advantages as well."

"Do go on."

"I am aware that the Emperor has tasked you with both guarding the Gate and expanding Imperial rule into these lands. However, that is easier said than done. You squat here on Alnus for fear of overextending your forces, which are still badly mauled from the battle you fought against Chaos. Though the sale of those dragon scales brought you much wealth, you lack a source of steady income. Though you've planned on cultivating farmland from the area around Alnus Hill, it is too late in the year to actually gain a harvest from it. Finally, your soldiers outnumber your subjects, who are almost exclusively made up of heathen locals of dubious loyalty, and who barely even know who the Emperor is, let alone the Ur-Emperor. In short Prince Erhardt, your position here is incredibly tenuous."

"I assume you have a point Lector."

"You are only capable of fulfilling one of your tasks at the expense of the latter. You remain a mere doorguard when it is possible for you to become a powerful lord in your own right. Succeed, and you may even become an Elector Count."

"Me? An Elector?"

"You may never become Emperor, but you will have the power to make Emperors. Of course, to do this you must rectify your situation first. That, is where I come in. As you may or may not know, I have connections to multiple enterprises and guilds. I can bring merchants, investors, money, and, more importantly, manpower both military and civilian in nature to Alnus. We can make a prosperous, powerful province of the Empire here in this world, one that will be the envy of the world."

"This sounds too good to be true Lector. What is the catch?"

"You allow me to construct a temple to Sigmar here, to convert the locals on a large scale, and, most importantly, a place on your council. For when it is heard how I brought the light of Sigmar to these lands, my prestige will increase, as will my standing within the Cult's hierarchy. Perhaps, one day soon, I may even be named as an Arch-Lector in my own right.

"So, what do you say Prince? Accept my offer, and we will both prosper from it."

"Natter... I would be a fool to refuse."

Natter smiled, and Erhardt felt an involuntary chill go down his spine.

"An excellent choice. I see great things in our future, oh yes."

* * *

 _The Saderan Senate_

"It has been months now, and no effort has been made to drive the Outlanders from Alnus Hill!"

"If we send an army now, it would meet the same fate as the Allied Kingdoms!"

"A single Saderan legionary is worth a dozen vassal conscript soldiers! They would drive the Outlanders back through the Gate!"

"Or they could be slaughtered by the Outlander's guns! Have you learned nothing?"

"Maybe we should look over this proposed ceasefire that Princess Pina Co Lada brought-"

"Ceasefire? With the enemy? Outrageous!"

"The Vassals will think us weak-"

"Traitor for even suggesting-"

Pina groaned internally at the sight of the Senator's arguing. Ever sine her return to Sadera, the Senate had split into two factions; Hawks in favor of taking the war to Alnus and Prince Erhardt's Outlanders, and Doves who wished to make peace with the Outlanders, perhaps come to a mutually beneficial arrangement.

There was only one thing both factions agreed on; neither were concerned with the presence of Chaos in Falmart. They either did not believe that such monsters could exist, or underestimated the threat it posed, especially since Flavius was now dead.

'Why should they?' Pina thought to herself from her seat in the upper levels of the Senate chamber, 'After all, they did not see what I saw. The daemons, the mutations left in their wake, and the madness and terror in the hearts of men.'

All the same though, a part of Pina wondered something else; 'Did they not take the threat seriously because it was I who brought news of it?'

She knew that was the case with at least one man in this room.

"Senators, Senators!" Zorzal, the Crown Prince, Pina's brother, and the largest ass in Sadera, shouted, "Calm yourselves! While the Outlander question is important, what say that we leave it for now, and move on to other matters, lest we speak on this issue till the sun sets in the sky?"

"What could be more important than the Outlanders?" a Senator asked.

"There is the matter of Hardy's Temples." Senator Tyueli spoke up, "In the past few months, Temples to the Queen of the Underworld have been attacked, ransacked, and desecrated all over Falmart. It is with great regret that I now inform this Senate that the Grand Temple of Hardy has been attacked as well, with the High Priestess murdered in her bed, and the temple set aflame."

Pina felt as though an icy hand gripped her heart; a feeling shared by a great many Senators in the room. Who would be bold enough, and powerful enough to attack Temples of Hardy, and risk her wrath?

* * *

 _Elbe  
_  
"Is this it, Maxos?" Remus asked the powerfully built man in front of him. Two skeletons carried a large sarcophagus between them, setting it down on the floor of the Elban Royal Crypt.

"It is indeed." came the man's reply as he walked over to the sarcophagus, opening the heavy stone lid with a single hand, with little effort.

Inside, the sarcophagus was filled to the brim with glowing green rocks, which made Remus dizzy just looking at it.

"Warpstone." Maxos said, closing the lid, "Fresh from Skavenblight. You cannot even comprehend how much planning, and how many resources were spent getting this much warpstone away from the rats, and then past the mortals in control of the Gate."

"I am sure that this was a significant investment," Remus began, trying not to look at the warpstone, "So, what are we going to use it for?"

"Our master is going to utilize this warpstone to power his necromancy, so that he may raise the dead from all over your homeland and your immediate neighbors."

"All at once?"

"Yes. A ritual such as this has not been attempted since the likes of Vlad Von Cartsein. No vampire since has been able to gather this much warpstone, what with the rats hoarding it all."

"No vampire hath ever been as mighty in the magical arts as I."

Maxos and Remus turned around and saw a third vampire approach them. His skin was a corpse grey, his head devoid of hair, and his arms bare. By a think fur cape was draped across his shoulders, and at his side was a magical sword, while clutched in his claw like right hand was a long staff with a sickle blade at it's head.

"Count Mannfred," Remus said with a bow, "As King of Elbe, I welcome you to my homeland, and thank you for the gift of immortality you bestowed upon me. The resources of my Kingdom are yours to command."

"It gladdens me to know that I have such loyal servants at mine command. Thy realm wilt become the epicenter of a new age for this world. First, business; how hath the shadow war against the temples of Hardy been progressing? "

"Most major temples on this side of the mountains have been struck at, including the main one." Remus explained, "There still remain some farther west, and then we have to deal with the ones in the heart of Saderan territory-"

"Thee art diligent, but those temples are too far away to be of immediate concern to me. I hear tell of a more pressing concern though; thy neighbors to the north, the elves. I hear they are elves, are they not?"

"Dark Elves, my Lord." Remus said, "They live in the Schwartz Forest, have so for generations. They keep to themselves, mostly, but occasionally there are skirmishes between us."

"Nevertheless, they are elves, and must be dealt with. King Remus, send thy servants in the forest, and slaughter them to the last."

"A dozen Elban Kings have tried and failed in the past centuries. We would be forced to divert-"

"Art thou defying me?" Mannfred asked dangerously.

"N-No my Lord!" Remus said hastily, "Only to inform you that this will not be a simple matter, and will take time. My mortal servants may not posses to strength to slay the subhumans."

"Then go thyself. Use thy new powers if thy has to. Just slay the elves to the last."

"At once, my Lord."

"Excellant. When the time is right, the dead of the south will rise, and force the living to their knees."

* * *

The Elbans moved into the forest two weeks ago, and immediately killed the first elf they found; an elder of their people, out gathering mushrooms. The Elban scouts found him, and cut him down where he stood.

He was the first to die, but far from the last.

The humans had advanced farther and farther into their forest, seeking to either drive them out of their homes, or to exterminate them all.

The fools. The Dark Elves of Schwarz Forest had may human lifetimes to get to know these woods far better than the Elbans ever could. This was not he first time the younger race had sought to take what was not theirs. Everytime an upjumped human warlord with delusions of grandeur would enter the woods with an army, thinking the elves to be easy prey.

They would never leave these woods alive.

* * *

From atop her perch on one of the stronger branches of the tree, Yao Haa Dushi loosed an arrow, which struck true in the center of a human's chest, his armor no match for superior dark elf craftsmenship.

She had no time to take grim satisfaction, however good a shot it was, in the kill; there were still more invaders to kill. Quickly, she notched another arrow and targeted a man on a horse with a ridiculous feather in his helmet; clearly an officer if she ever saw one. She drew back and let loose; unfortunately, she only hit him in the shoulder, but at least the bastard would be unable to continue fighting.

This was how the Dark Elves of Schwartz Woods fought; arrows from the trees, and daggers from the bushes, catching their foes offguard and slaying scores of them before they retreated back into the shadows. It was how they defeated the intruders into their home for generations; it would be how they defeated the Elbans this day.

"Keep it up!" Yao heard her superior, Kaon, shout from an adjacent tree, "Drive them from our forest! For every one of our kin that they've slain, take a dozen humans as payment!"

Yao and all her companions shouted their approval, and a storm of arrows fell from the trees, turning the Elbans into pincushions.

"Ha! Did you see that shot Yao?" a young girl, Jaskr, asked from beside Yao, "I hit that human in the head!"

"Excellant, but don't make it a habit." Yao replied as she scouted her next target, "Aim for the torso; it's a bigger target, and kills just as efficiently."

"Yes ma'am." Jaskr replied, "As you say-"

Jaskr's next words were cut off by a crossbow bolt in her left arm. To her credit, the young elf did not scream, but the expression on her face made it clear that the 16 inch bolt in her arm was causing her massive pain.

"Hardy dammit!" Yao said as she slung her bow behind her back, before hastily making her way to Jaskr.

"Keep it in there!" Yao yelled as Jaskr put her hand around the shaft, "You may be doing more harm than good if you remove it incorrectly!"

"Yes ma'am." Jaskr said, holding back tears.

"Stay calm Jaskr, let me look at it." Yao said firmly, and the younger elf nodded, gritting her teeth to keep from screaming.

Once next to her, Yao inspected the wound; straight into the bone. Jaskr would be lucky if she could ever use that arm again.

"Your role in this battle has ended young one. You need to get to the healers young one." Yao stated, "Or else you may lose all use of your arm."

"Yes ma'am!" Jaskr obeyed, albeit reluctantly, "I can get there on my own-"

"No, I will go with you." Yao stated in a tone that brooked no argument, "You'll need my help to get down this tree. Stay here, I need to inform Kaon."

Yao stood up and walked across the branch, taking care to keep her head down so as to not be hit by Elban crossbows, and called out to Kaon.

"Captain!" Yao shouted, and Kaon turned his head and acknowledged Yao, "Jaskr is wounded, I'm taking her to the healers!"

"Good judgment Yao!" he replied, "Be swift though! We'll need every bow and blade we have to drive this filth out!"

Yao nodded and hurried back to Jaskr. Kaon returned his attention to the battle. A score of Elbans had already perished to his fighters, and it would be sooner, rather than later, that the humans would break.

"Captain!" an elf dual wielding scimitars shouted from the forest floor, "The humans are in retreat!"

Kaon observed the humans; it was true, the round ears were fleeing west, no longer having the stomach to fight his warband. Kaon was a veteran war leader; now it was time to press their attack.

"Pursue them!" Kaon commanded, "And let none escape!"

A loud cheer was sounded throughout the forest. As the Elban soldiers retreated, every dark elves gave chase, determined to slaughter every last one of them.

Every dark elf save for two, that is.

"That is strange." Yao said as she climbed down the tree using a rope, with Jaskr strapped to her back, "The humans entered the woods from the south, but they head west."

"Why is that odd?" Jaskr asked, "The humans flee in terror, and scatter before us."

"Except they are not scattering." Yao said as she looked out at the fleeing humans, "If they were, they would be heading in every direction, or at least in the general direction of south, from whence they came. They are purposefully heading west."

"Why, what is west?"

"The Cemetery of Invaders."

"The what of what?"

"It is a mass grave where, for centuries, we buried every human warband that tried to invade these woods... they must know that it is there. Why would the Elbans choose that as a fallback point?"

* * *

"King Remus, I must protest this decision-"

"Your protests have been noted."

"This campaign is folly! We've lost scores of men with only a dozen dead elves to show for it!"

General Marius, a bloated man with a penchant for eating raw onions, raged at Remas. The Elban camp was erected in a clearing in the western part of the forest, where the soldiers had hastily constructed wooden fortifications. The King himself was standing at the edge of a ditch outside the wooden walls, staring at the dirt with a wry smile on his face.

"On the contrary General," Remus said in a smug tone, "Everything is going according to plan."

"Plan? What plan? We've been here for near a month, and your men are dropping like flies! We must retreat, live to fight another day!"

"Retreat, when the hour of glory draws near? I think not General." Remus replied.

"There will be no glory here if we are all dead!"

Remus then held up a hand to silence Marius.

"Do you hear that Genral?" Remus asked.

"No, hear what?"

"That is the sound of the patrol returning to camp. It seems that the elves have slaughtered many of them, and are now in hot pursuit."

"What! How can you hear that- never mind!" Marius shouted, "Then before the knife eared bastards arrive, we must prepare a defense-"

"Belay that order." Remus commanded and he held out both his hands to the sky, "For I will be requiring our soldiers for a different task."

"My King, with all due respect, you have gone mad if you think that this 'task' is more important that driving off the elves!"

Remus said nothing, but raised his hands into the air even higher. He then began chanting under his breath, and red lights began to dance in Remus' palms.

"Magic? You know magic?" Marius began, "King Remus, when did you learn to cast spells, and what are you trying to do-" Marius began before he felt a sharp pain in the back of his skull.

Marius clutched his head with both hands, but the pain kept coming. He closed his eyes in pain and began grunting. Then he heard the sound of steel being drawn, and screams from within the camp. Desperately, he opened his eyes and turned around. He was greeted to the sight of proud sodleirs of the Elban army turning their blades and slaughtering on one another.

"What madness is this?!" Marius cried out in terror. Then, suddenly, he felt excruciating pain as a blade pierced his torso from behind.

"What madness?" Remus asked as he whispered into the ear of Marius, "Why, it is a madness spell; the first part of my plan to claim victory over the elves. The elves do not know it yet, but they are being led into a trap; one that there will be no escape from."

"You... you monster!" Marius struggled to get out as blood poured out of his mouth, "You would do this to your own subjects?"

"Prey always thinks of the predator as monsters. Humans are but cattle to my kind, General." Remus smirked "You exist to serve... and to nourish my hunger!"

Remus opened his jaws, and out of the corner of his eye, Marius saw that his king's mouth had numerous fangs!

As Marius screamed, Remus sunk his teeth into the General's neck, drinking deeply from the man.

He had another spell to cast in preparation for the elves after all, and when it came to magic, he preferred to do it on a full stomach.

* * *

The last human barely stepped a foot inside his camp before Kaon's arrow hit him in the back. The elf, however, took no time to savor his kill. Instead, he was focused on the Elban camp.

Odd enough that the Elbans made camp on top of the Cemetary, but it was specifically, the lack of any activity within it that gave cause for concern.

Even if they were humans, they should have responded to the fact that one of their own were killed in front of the entrance to their camp. So far though, nothing. Was there even anyone alive in there?

"I don't like this." Kaon said to Layla, his second, "Is the camp empty?"

"It couldn't be." came her reply, "Camp that large? Has to be humans in there, even if it is just the bare minimum to maintain it."

"Then they should have noticed the dead man in front of the entrance."

Kaon said nothing for a minute, thinking things over, weighing his options.

"I'm going in." he finally said, "Orys, Ifit, your squads are with me. Layla, head back to the village and tell them what's going on."

"Are you sure about this Kaon? What if it's a trap?"

"It most likely is. Still, we can't afford to not investigate."

"As you say Kaon." Layla nodded before she and the rest of the elves disappeared into the darkness.

"Alright then, "Kaon said as he drew an arrow and notched it to his bowstring, "Let's find out what surprise the Elbans have left us."

"Merciful Hardy..." Kaon whispered, "What happened here?"

They had barely taken five steps into the camp when Kaon and his elves came upon the answer to the question of why the Elbans didn't respond.

The entire camp was slaughtered to the last man, killed, from all evidence, by each other.

"Kaon, what do we do?" Orys asked his leader, "Everyone is dead."

"Check the tents." Kaon ordered as he knelt down next to a pair of corpses that had stabbed one another with daggers, "Perhaps there is someone still alive, or failing that, some clue as to what killed these men."

"At once." Orys nodded. The elves split up, arrows and blades at the ready, and began to search to camp.

"This tent is clear."

"As is this one."

"This one too."

"Just more dead bodies."

Kaon barely registered what his people were saying. He was too busy looking at the corpses. How could this happen? What would make the humans go mad and turn their own blades on one another? Kaon had no love for the Elbans, but they did not deserve to die like this.

Suddenly, his keen hearing picked up the sound of twigs breaking underneath boots. All his people were graceful of foot; they wouldn't be making such a racket. It had to be a human.

"Everyone, follow up on me." he ordered as he notched an arrow and made his way towards the source of the noise, his people wordlessly following behind him.

Kaon turned past the corner of a tent and saw the heavy footed human making the noise. The Elban stood a dozen yards away, in the middle of a pile of corpses, looking right at him. He was dressed in gold plated armor, with a red cape draped around his shoulders, and in each hand he carried a longsword. He wore no helmet, and as such, Kaon was able to get a good look at his face; deathly pale, and supremely arrogant. His expression was also extremely cocky, as if he knew he was going to be victorious.

Kaon would disabuse him of that notion.

"Hold human!" Kaon shouted as he aimed his arrow at the man's head, "We have you outnumbered!" As if to emphasize his point, the rest of his people came around the corner, pointing their arrows at the human as well.

The human looked from Kaon to the other elves, a bemused look on his face.

"It appears I am." he said with a smile, "Though if I am outmatched remains to be seen."

"Confidant for a lone human, aren't we?" Kaon replied, "Tell us who you are, and we may let you live."

"Who I am? Very well, I am in your home after all, it would only be polite. I am Remus, King of Elbe, and soon to be Overlord of the South, and you, my knife eared friend, should be very scared."

"The King." Kaon stated, "You'll make an excellent hostage. Ifit, secure him. Maybe put an arrow in his arm so he won't give us any trouble."

Ifit nodded, drew back her bowstring, and loosed her arrow.

Then, moving faster than any human had a right to be, Remus then swung his sword, cutting the arrow in half.

"How- what-" Ifit stuttered, gaping at the human.

"Well now, just for that, I'm going to kill you all in the most awful way I can think of." remus said wit ha chuckle, before stepping forward wit ha murderous glint in his eyes.

"Everyone, loose arrows!" Kaon shouted, not taking any chances.

All the elves under his command let loose their arrows, only for each to meet air as Remus either knocked the shafts aside with his blades, or simply stepped out of the way as if the arrows moved in slow motion.

"So, are you knife eared saps done shooting arrows at me?" Remus asked with a feral grin, and for the first time Kaon saw that the human king's mouth was full of long, sharp teeth, "For if you are, then I say it is my turn!"

Remus looked to the sky, and raised both swords into the air.

"What is that human doing?" Ifit asked aloud.

Remus then lowered his head, and locked eyes with Kaon.

"Are you prepared for death elf?"

No sooner had those words left Remus' mouth than the dead began to rise from where they fell. Dead humans, who in madness killed one another, stood up, clutching their weapons in their hands.

"Sweet merciful Hardy..." Kaon exclaimed as he took a step back, "This is unnatural!"

"This, elf, is power." Remus said as he stepped forward through the mass of the walking dead, "For every one of my men you've killed for these past weeks, you've merely created a new soldier for my army."

"You can raise the dead? How? No mage is possible of this!"

"I am no mere mage. I am also quite clever. Why else do you think I made my camp on the pit you've thrown every human you've ever killed into?"

It was then that hands started to break through the soil, as the skeletons of centuries dead invaders crawled their way out of the earth in their hundreds, maybe even thousands, carrying rusty weapons and clad in rusty armor.

"Retreat!" Kaon shouted as he loosed an arrow into a walking corpse, "Retreat before we are surrounded and overrun!"

"Oh, it is far too late for that elf!" Remus shouted, and with a superhuman leap, closed the distance between himself and Kaon. Swords flashing, he struck at the elf, whose quick reflexes was the only thing that saved him. Kaon dropped his bow, and drew his scimitar, and attempted to parry Remus' swings. If he was facing a human, Kaon would have won within a few seconds. Remus was no human however. He was much faster, stronger, and far more dangerous than any foe Kaon had ever faced.

"You have spirit elf!" Remus mocked as he caught Kaon's scimitar with both his blades, "I admire that!"

Remus then snapped Kaon blade in half with his own swords, then he stabbed both blades into the dark elf's chest.

Kaon coughed up blood over Remus as the elf screamed in pain. Remus merely smiled as he sunk his swords in deeper.

"You will make a _fine_ addition to my army."

"E-everyone!" Kaon struggled to get out, "Flee!"

And with that last command, Kaon, Warleader of the Scwartz Dark Elves, died.

Reluctantly, the other elves left him, fighting their way out of the camo through the masses of undead.

Smirking, Remus removed his blades from the dead Kaon's chest, letting the elf's body fall to the ground.

"Yes…" Remus whispered as more and more undead pulled themselves from the earth, "Run home little elves…

"Hunt them down!" he commanded his undead soldiers, "Follow them back to the rest of their misbegotten kind!"

At his command, the assembled zombies and skeletons gave chase, while in the air, swarms of bats darkened the sky.

"Well, Jaskr, I'd say that you're going to keep this arm." The healer told the young elf as she wrapped the arm in bandages.

"Thank you elder." Jaskr said with a short yet respectful bow. Yao looked over the two with a smile, before her mind went back to the events that were still unfolding.

Layla had arrived earlier with the bulk of their forces, and told the village that Kaon had gone into the camp with two squads to investigate its unsettling emptiness. That had been two hours ago. Where was Kaon now?

A horn blast shook Yao from her thoughts; a single blast. That meant that the war party was returning!

Yao left the healer's hut and was greeted to the sight of a crowd of villagers surrounding Orys and five of his squad. They all sported cuts and were covered in dirt.

"Orys!" Yao called out, and the other elf looked up at her, "What happened to you? Where's Kaon? Where's the rest of the Warband?"

"Kaon… Kaon is dead." Orys said softly, and Yao felt her blood run cold.

"The Elban King is a mage… one that blasphemes against Lady Hardy by raising the dead to do his bidding!"

The entire village broke into chatter; the dead walk the earth, and under the command of a human at that? Kaon was dead?

"Listen to me, all of you!" Orys shouted, "The living dead are not far behind us, and they number in the thousands! We must leave the village if we have any hope to survive!"

More chatter. Leave the village? Their homes?

"Orys is right!" Yao shouted, "Everyone, grab what you can carry and prepare to leave! We make for the caves"

And so it was that the dark elves were forced from their home, and into the mountains. They grabbed as much food as they could carry, and the stronger elves helped to carry those either too old, too weak, or too young to walk on their own.

They left in the nick of time too; the dead arrived a mere half hour after them. Remus walked through their village, grinning at a job well done.

"I've done it!" he said to himself, "I've forced them all out! I've done what a dozen Elban Kings have tried to do!" he laughed.

"But… Lord Mannfred wants them dead… aw well. One must do as one's told after all. Besides, this way I can add more elves to my collection."

Remus turned his head and smiled at the undead closest to him.

"Hunt them down Kaon, your King commands it!"

Kaon's reanimated corpse said nothing, but took off into the woods, followed by a hundred skeletons and zombies, on the trail of his former dark elf kin.

* * *

 ** _Sadera_**

Pina, clad in a thin, red, silk dress and golden sandals, made her way towards Emperor Molt Sol Augustus' private chambers. Her father had summoned her for a task of grave importance; she wasn't told what it was, exactly, and she was given vague information that it would make use of her _experiences_. What that meant exactly was unknown, but Pina was sure that he didn't mean her combat skills.

When she finally reached the door, she was surprised to find that an enthusiastic Zorzal was just leaving, with Tyuule, his warrior rabbit concubine, following close behind.

"Well dear sister," he began, "It seems like father has found a use for you after all."

"I serve at the Emperor's pleasure." Pina responded, never in the mood to interact with Zorzal, "You seem happy though."

"Indeed I am. Father has tasked me with an important mission to the east. I'm to leave immediately, so I won't have time to chat."

"How unfortunate." Pina responded neutrally.

"Yes, it is." Zorzal flashed her a false smile, "Well, I must be off. Come along Tyuule, we need to speak with your sisters."

"Yes Your Highness." Tyuule said, betraying no emotion, following Zorzal wordlessly. Pina only spared them a second long glance before turning her attention back to the reason why she was here.

On either side of her father's chambers stood two officers of the Praetorian Guard, who were selected from the most talented of Sadera's Legions, and equipped with the finest armor and weapons money could buy. If one wished the Emperor harm, they would not get very far before the Praetorian cut them down.

"Let me through." Pina commanded, "The Emperor desires my presence."

The guards wordlessly nodded, stood aside, and held open the doors for her, slowly closing it behind her the second she was inside.

As she entered the large room, Pina noticed that her father had attached a large map of the continent to the north wall, and even now was looking intently at it.

"Father?" she asked, and Molt turned his head to look at her over his shoulder.

"Ah Pina, good; come stand next to me and tell me what you see."

Pina moved beside Molt and took in the map; it displayed the borders of the Saderan Empire, the Vassal Kingdoms, and the lands they had yet to conquer.

One part of the map stood out though; the lands surrounding Alnus Hill were shaded red, and the flag of the Outlanders was prominently displayed there.

"Well?" Molt asked, waiting for an answer.

"I see that you have shaded those lands occupied by the Outlanders. These are lands we have to reclaim."

"A blind man could have told me that Pina. Look past the borders, and tell me what it means."

Pina looked again, harder this time, and put thought into it.

Why did father color in the Alnus territory differently? They were occupied by the enemy, yes, but they were still part of the-

Her eyes widened, and she turned to stare at her father.

"You intend to give up those lands to the Outlanders!"

"Yes. I have decided that, in exchange for an end to the fighting, the Empire of Sadera will turn over all legal claim to the Alnus Province. From henceforth, all lands west of the mountains, north of Elbe, and east of the Italica river will be transferred to the Empire of Man."

"The Holy Hill of Alnus, to remain in the hands of our enemies?" Pina asked, trying to contain her rage, "We have armies and fleets in abundance, and the will to use them! I cannot fathom that we are simply surrendering to them!"

"Fool girl, of course we are not surrendering." Molt snapped at her, and immediately, Pina quieted, remembering how dangerous it was to speak to Molt in such a way.

"This, is merely a delaying tactic." Molt explained, looking at the map, "We give them these lands, and the boy prince, Erhardt, will be tasked to capacity in holding them. The people there will rise up against him; unable to stand being ruled by a foreigner such as he. With the host of troubles that will descend upon him, he will be forced to spread his forces thin. Then, when the time is right, Sadera will reclaim those lands, liberating them from the reign of a barbarian."

"With all due respect father, but how? There may be fewer of them, but they have their powerful battle magic, and their blackpower artillery!"

"Oh, soon enough, we will have ways to even the field. That is why I've sent your brother Zorzal out on a mission of utmost importance; should he succeed, the barbarians will lose their one advantage over us.

"We must be patient thought." Molt continued, "It may be several years before we are ready to strike back; and this plan relies on ensuring that the barbarians are none the wiser. Therefore, I am sending you, my daughter."

"Me?"

"You will deliver my offer of lands to them. Is it not true that Prince Erhardt and youself came to a semblance of an understanding during Italica?"

"It is father."

"Then he will trust you. Afterwards, you will serve as Sadera's official ambassador to the Outlanders. You will gain their trust, and you will keep them unaware of our true plans."

"Me? An ambassador?" Pina asked disbelieving. For the first time ever, her father was assigning her a mission of grave importance, and she did not have to beg and scrape for it. She was, all at once, excited and terrified.

"Who better than a Princess of Imperial blood?" Molt stated, "Bring your Rose Order with you; they will serve you well in that place. You are dismissed."

Pina bowed her head and was in the process of turning around when she stopped.

"Father?"

"Yes?"

"How will you justify breaking this peace treaty to the Senate in the future? Should you break it, none will ever trust your word ever again."

"Quite simple my dear daughter; I will not be the one to break it. The Outlanders will."

"How can you be so sure of that?"

"I have a plan; one that need not concern you. Now go; it is a long way to Alnus Hill, and you will be spending the immediate future there. I suggest you immediately begin packing."

"Yes father." Pina bowed her head again and left.

She had so many questions; what was Zorzal's mission, what was her fahter's plan, and why did she feel so uneasy about all of this dishonesty?

* * *

Molt watched Pina leave, then he turned back to the map.

"All the players are in motion now…" he whispered.

Molt was then shaken from his thoughts by a pounding at the door.

"Who is it?" he called out.

"Your Imperial Majesty!" came the Praetorian's reply, "Your Councilor is here to speak with you!"

"Good, send him in." Molt shouted back, returning his attention to the map. He heard the sound of the Praetorian opening and closing the door, and the sound of wood meeting the marble floors.

"Hail Emperor Molt Sol Augustus!" the Councilor said, "I spied Princess Pina leaving these rooms. Would it be presumptuous of me to assume that you have given her your task?"

"You are correct Councilor." Molt answered as he turned around to look at the Councilor.

Leaning on his wooden staff, and the white raven perched on his shoulder, the Councilor smiled, his clouded eyes staring straight at Molt.

"Then all goes according to plan."

* * *

Two weeks after the battle in Schwartz Forest

 _Fort Griffon_

"I must say Lector, this is an impressive collection of mercenaries you've hired for our cause." Erhardt said, Lector Natter Bismark by his side, as the two men looked from the balcony of his keep towards the lines of men who were marching through the Gate.

"They will serve their purpose." Natter replied, dressed in burgundy robes with a gold hammer pendant hanging around his neck, "I will not miss them when the time comes to replace them with proper state troop regiments."

"Come now Lector, some of these companies are as famed as the best companies in the Empire; look there, I see the ogres of Golgfag's Maneaters, whose leader was personally decorated by my father the Emperor himself! And there, I spy the banners of Lumpin Crook's Fighting Cocks, truly they are the black sheep among the easy going halflings! "

"You appear to be quite knowledgeable on sellsword companies Prince Erhardt."

"I admit Lector, they are a passion of mine, and I am no mere dilettante when it comes to the subject. I know all the famous companies, their histories, and their more famous commanders."

"I take it that such knowledge did not come to you in the form of your boyhood tutors?"

"You are correct; I had to learn all of this myself. As I said, famous mercenary bands are a passion of mine."

"Then in that case, you will not have any problem in recognizing the latest band to cross through."

Erhardt turned his attention back to the gate, and his eyes widened as he saw the band of mercenaries march through the gate; a company of heavily armored horsemen, led by a brute of man with a mustache as huge as it was ugly.

"Oh dear Sigmar…" Erhardt prayed as he turned to Natter, "Please by all that is holy, do not tell me that you have hired Voland's Venators!"

"Among the dogs of war, they are the finest of horsemen." Natter explained, "True they are lacking in all forms of manners and decency-"

"Bismark, King Louen of Bretonnia has an 'execute on sight' order out for Voland, with good reason I might add!"

"Prince Erhardt, the fact of the matter is, they are among the finest heavy cavalry in the Old World, and their lances were for sale; we would be fools not use them."

"Voland is practically a brigand in plate mail."

"Then we will keep him and his men on a short leash. I am no fool Prince; I know that Voland is, at heart, a base animal. That is why we will be selective of our use in him. The proper tool for the proper job; and for a ruler, there will be jobs that require men of Voland's ilk."

Erhardt growled under his breath but said nothing. While he wasn't thrilled with the Venators being in his fort, Natter was correct; there may come a time when Voland's glorified marauders would prove useful.

"Do not trouble yourself will Voland Your Highness; instead, look below once more, the last of the mercenary companies passes through the Gate. Such is there fame, you will recognize their banner above all others."

Putting aside his unease towards the Venators, Erhardt returned his gaze back to the Gate, and once more, his eyes widened; this time in excitement rather than dread.

"A sword," he said under his breath, "With beams of light emitting from its handle… Bismark, these are the famed Grudebringers! The Grudgebringers!"

"I'm glad you recognize our banners Your Highness." A rough voice said from behind Erhardt.

The Prince turned around, and he swore his heart jumped up into his throat.

The speaker was a tall man with a black beard, and face hardened both by age and by war. He wore expensive plate armor, and on his hip, was a magic sword.

"Prince Erhardt, may I present Captain Morgan Bernhardt." Bismark said as he nodded respectfully to the mercenary captain.

"Commander Bernhardt, actually." Bernhardt corrected Bismark, seemingly uncaring that it was a Lector that he spoke to, and one of Bismark's reputation at that.

"Commander Bernhardt, I am honored to have you here in my fort." Erhardt said, holding out a hand, "Since my youth, you have been a personal hero of mine."

"Well now, I've been many things to many people, but I've rarely been called a hero." Bernardt replied, taking Erhardt's outstretched hand and shaking it, "I've taken contracts for your father, the Emperor many times Your Highness. When Natter here came to me with this job, I knew that it was an opportunity that I could not pass up, either for myself, or for my men."

"Well, I for one am glad that such a famed band of warriors such as the Grudgebringers will be fighting alongside us." Erhardt said as he walked over to his liquor cabinet, "Come, have a drink. Do you prefer wine or beer?"

"Beer." Bernhardt answered as he walked over to Erhardt, taking a tankard of beer from the prince, "As much as I would enjoy the pleasure of your company Prince, I am actually here to discuss the matter of the Grudgebringers' payment."

"You do not think we are paying you enough?" Bismark skeptically asked.

"No, it's not money that we want, though we'll take that. I want land."

"Land?"

"Yes. Land to build a town, a home for myself and my men. Most men of my profession don't live long enough to settle down. Natter, from everything you told me of this new world, Falmart, there is an abundance of land. I wish to settle it, build a home for me and mine. In return, we will fight for your Prince, till our dying breaths. For gold in fleeting, but a home is worth dying for."

"I see no problem with your terms Commander." Erhardt said, sitting down, "Come, sit down, let us hammer out the details of this new contract."

"I am grateful that you so readily agree. Now then, considering the number of men under my command…"

* * *

The negotiations between Erhardt and Bernhardt took longer than expected. In return for their services, the Grudgebearers would be given many acres of land to the north of Alnus, close to Italica and the rest of the Saderan Empire. They would become the first line of defense in the event of a Saderan attack.

The sun was beginning to set when Erhardt decided to take a walk. He had been cooped up in his office for so long, he needed to stretch his legs.

He left the keep, and took to the walls, were scant months before, he stood in defense against the might of Sadera, and took in the sights of the hustle and bustle of what was being constructed both within, and without the fort.

The smithy, which was run by a dwarf called Grin, who was surly even by the standards of his race, was busy forging items for the burgeoning settlement growing outside Fort Griffon's walls.

The villages themselves, which were home to both Falmarters who had sworn fealty to him, and colonists from Reikland.

At the base of the hill was the encampment where the bulk of his army lived and worked; tents slowly being phased out in exchange for wooden structures built with material brought in from the Reikwald Forest. Oh, how he yearned for the day when it would be safe enough to construct buildings of stone!

Towering above them all, however, was the skeleton of what would one day become a Sigmarite temple; Natter's project. It would serve dual purposes; both as a place of worship for the faithful, and as a reminder to the locals of just whom it was that now ruled these lands.

Erhardt smiled to himself; a year ago, he was merely the fourth son of Karl Franz. Now, he was fast on his way to becoming a powerful lord in his own right. Few nobleborn children could say the same.

If he played his cards right, there was a chance he could even become and elector…

A blast from the horn drew him out of his thoughts. He scanned the horizon, looking for whatever the sentries had spotted.

There! A band of riders approached from the northwest! Quickly, he drew his spyglass and tried to focus in on the riders.

The first thing he saw were their banners; the Saderan dragon. This band wasn't large enough for an attack; perhaps only two dozen riders at most. No, more likely the Saderans had sent an envoy and escort. They wanted to talk.

What they wanted remained to be seen.

"Well then," Erhardt whispered to himself as he put away his spyglass, "It would be remiss of me not to welcome my guests."

* * *

Pina tried not to show how nervous she was when she and her Rose Order passed through the gates to the Outlander's fort. Though she had fought alongside them for Italica, and formed an mutual respect with Prince Erhardt, she always remembered that they were the enemy, and that they had killed thousands of her countrymen.

Still, Italica had shown they had honor, and their Prince had given her the respect of one warrior to another, something her own family had yet to show her. Offering this truce to them with the intention of betraying it at a later date made her sick; it was a command of the Emperor though, and Pina Co Lada was ever a loyal servant of Sadera.

She saw Prince Erhardt approach her; he was clad in his black armor, sword by his side, and he had a bemused look upon his face.

"Welcome Princess Pina Co Lada." He said in the common tongue, "You're the first of your countrymen to set foot in this fort when there's not a battle going on. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Well met Prince Erhardt," she replied, "I have come as an emissary of my father, the Emperor Molt Sol Augustus, to discuss the future. Will you be open to hear what the Emperor has to say?"

"I am very much open." Erhardt said with a nod, "Though it is getting late in the day; would it sit well with you to discuss this weighty matter tomorrow, when I can assemble my entire council? I can have arrangements for food and lodging be made for you and your escort, and your mounts will be looked after. I also extend an invitation for you to dine at my table tonight; tomorrow, we'll have a feast in your honor."

"I accept your offer of hospitality." Pina replied with a smile, "And I would be glad to dine with you."

* * *

"I was not expecting to see you again so soon after Italica, Your Highness." Erhardt said as he refilled Pina's wine glass, "At least, _not_ in any scenario where we were not on a battlefield."

They were sitting at a short table in Erhardt's audience chamber, alone save for the half dozen footmen who stood like silent sentinels until they were needed, and Pina's page, Hamilton.

"Rarely does life ever turn out the way we expect." Pina said before taking a sip, "This is good wine; where does it come from?"

"My family's vineyards." Erhardt exclaimed with pride, "The finest in all of Reikland! If you would like, I could gift you a bottle."

"I would like that very much." She answered, "But I get the feeling you did not invite me to dine with you simply because you enjoyed the pleasure of my company."

"Your instincts are correct. No, I want to know what this is all about."

"I beg your pardon?"

Erhardt set down the bottle and sat down, his face for the first time stern.

"Your father sent an army into our lands, who raped and pillaged a dozen towns and villages before we finally stopped them. Then he sends his vassals at us for four weeks, and we turn your holy hill into a charnel house. Then, there's nothing. No incursions, no counterattacks, nothing from your end. Now, you arrive here, unannounced, saying that you wish to speak of the future? What future does the Emperor of Sadera have in mind for my people, that doesn't involve a yoke around our necks?"

"… My father desires peace between our two peoples, for that will be more beneficial for both our societies than war."

Erhardt barked out a short laugh.

"Peace? Why would you sue for peace? Every Falmarter I've spoken to all tell me that Sadera has legions to spare. Far more than we could ever muster, that Sadera's legions cover the world, their feet shake the earth, and their arrows block out the sky. Now, I'm inclined the believe that you do have a large army at your disposal, fresh and eager for battle. So why is your father suing for peaceinstead of unleashing them against us?"

"Because we have a graver threat to deal with."

"A graver threat?" Erhardt asked, skeptical.

"Yes… the enemy that you call Chaos." Erhardt shuddered at the mention of the unholy.

"I managed to convince my father that the daemons we faced at Italica are a graver threat to the Empire than you could ever be."

"You spoke the truth then. Daemons infest your lands, and an entire army fell under their unholy sway. If you don't hunt them all down, I fear to imagine what could befall your peoples. It is good that your father sees the real threat. Considering that I've heard that Emperor Molt is a stubborn man, I am impressed that you were able to convince him of that."

"Thank you, Prince Erhardt." Pina said as she took a sip from her cup, trying to use it to hide the flash of red on her face at his compliment.

"However, duty demands that I demand compensation for the lives lost and homes destroyed by your father's armies since the Gate opened."

"Of course, we would not expect you to agree to a cessation of the war without something in return." Pina explained as she snapped her fingers.

With a small gasp, Hamilton rushed over to Pina, and handed her a large rolled up paper before wordlessly returning to her post next to the door. Pina unfurled the paper and held it out to show Erhardt, who had stood up to get a better look.

"This is a map of Falmart." He stated rather than asked.

"It is. Pay attention to this part, right here." She pointed her finger to where Alnus Hill was located. The hill, along with all the lands north of Elbe, west of the mountains, and south of Italica were shaded red, with the eagle of Reikland prominently displayed next to it.

"In return for your agreement to end the war," Pina explained, "His Imperial Majesty, Molt Sol Augustus, will cede Alnus Hill and its surrounding lands, settlements, and farms to the Empire of Man. I assume that will be more than enough compensation for you, Prince Erhardt?"

"Holy Sigmar…" Erhardt whispered, "This land is as large as an Imperial province! And your father is willing to cede it to us?"

"He is."

Erhardt looked at the map, then back to Pina. After a minute, he cleared his throat and finally spoke.

"Well, we still have to discuss this with my council tomorrow."

"Of course."

"Then I will have to deliver this news to my own father, Emperor Karl Franz, in Altdorf."

"Show it to as many people as you wish Prince Erhardt. However, I was instructed to see this through to the very end. So if this peace requires your own lord father's approval, I am required myself to deliver it to him in person."

"Yes, yes of course." Erhardt said, sitting down, still in shock, "First we will inform my council, then I will escort you to Altdorf."

"Then it is decided." Pina grinned, and raised her glass, "A toast then, to peace."

"To peace." Erhardt echoed, and they clinked their glasses together and drank.

No sooner had Pina finished her drink then realization flashed in her eyes.

"Tell me Prince Erhardt, is Cato the Elder Sage and his apprentice still counted among your council?"

"Lelei is, but Cato has left Alnus some time ago."

"He has? Why?"

"After Italica, he had accompanied the dwarfs on their journey to the east in search of your world's dwarfs, to serve as an interpreter."

"Really?"

"I was as surprised as you are Princess. Dwarfs are mistrustful of magic by their nature, so it is unusual that they allow Cato to travel with them. Between you and me though, they probably tolerate him for his beard above all else."

Pina laughed at that, "You mentioned that his apprentice is still among you?"

"Yes, young Lelei acts as interpreter for my councilors, those who do not yet speak your common tongue. However, she spends most of her days with the College Mages. They say that she is quite brilliant, and that she responds well to their lessons."

"They teach her magic?"

"Not exactly. You see, Lelei is not a member of the Colleges, so they are not allowed to instruct her in the arcane arts… yet. They do teach her about other subjects though. Whenver she is not with them, she is with Tuka Luna Marceau."

"The elf girl, correct? I haven't seen any elves here though."

"Lelei and Tuka went out into the hills today to collect some sort of ingredients, sands I believe, for Lelei's spells. As for the other elves, Captain Vanon was called away back to his homeland to fight against invaders. Unfortunately, he was forced to leave Tuka behind, much to the displeasure of both elves as I've observed."

* * *

"It appears it will be dark by the time we return home." Tuka observed as she rode down the road that cut through the hills, with many twists and turns, on the back of her horse, her bow in one hand.

"So it seems." Lelei replied from the driver's seat of her wagon, the fruit of the day's reagent hunt in the back, "However, we were quite productive."

"I'm glad that I could help. Thanks for brining me along." Tuka said with a smile, "I needed to take my mind off of things."

"Your father or Vanon?"

"Both. My father's alive, that I know. What I don't know, is where he is, or what he's doing. Gods, I hope he's alright. Then there's Vanon, who I know is in the Shadowlands, and is fighting druchii, all the while taking orders from Prince Madir, that complete and utter-"

Tuka stopped talking and pulled the reins back on her horse, and serious look on her face.

"Tuka-"

"Stop the wagon." The elf girl ordered, and Lelei did so, "Do you hear that?"

"Tuka, you're an elf, and I'm a human; I _can't_ hear what you're hearing; at least not until it gets closer. What do you hear?"

"It sounds like someone running…" Tuka described, "And… the beating of leathery wings. It's coming from behind us."

Lelei then heard the sound of footsteps; boots hitting the ground at a fast pace. She turned around and looked at the corner they had just turned a minute ago, with the sound of the footsteps growing louder and louder.

Tuka notched an arrow to her bowstring and pulled back. Lelei leveled her staff, and prepared to cast.

Suddenly, a figure turned the corner with a sharp turn. It was a dark elf woman, clad in low cut, tight leather clothes, a bow on her back and a sword in her left hand, and a face that showed she was gripped with fear.

"Run!" Yao Haa Dushi shouted a warning to the two as she continued to run down the road, "Monsters dog my every step!"

It was then that dozens of large bats filled the sky, and descended upon them.

"Climb on!" Lelei shouted at Yao, who wasted no time in jumping onto the back of the wagon. Both TUka and Leli took off down the road as fast as they could, the bats flying close behind them.

Behind the bats, the reanimated body of Kaon watched his quarry continue to flee with his glazed eyes. The command of Remus still stood; hunt down the dark elves.

"Oh dear, it seems like she's found transportation." A vampire on horseback said as he rode up next to Kaon, "King Remus and Lord Mannfred will not be pleased if word were the reach the mortals of our existence. They'll have my head in fact. Kaon, I have new orders for you; in addition to slaying your former kinswoman, kill the other two girls and bring me their bodies as well! Go, before they have a chance to warn the living!"

* * *

 **The Southern Road to Alnus Hill**

"We must go faster, we must go faster, we must go faster-" Yao chanted to herself as she loosed a series of arrows into the swarm of bats chasing them.

"We are going as fast as we can!" the normally stoic Lelei shouted as she steered the horses, "Those monster bats can fly faster than the horses can run though!"

Running alongside the wagon, and from the back of her horse, Tuka loosed one of her arrows, and hit a bat dead on.

"I've never seen bats like these before!" Tuka commented, "Why are they chasing you?"

"They have chased me for many days and nights!" Yao shouted back, "I promise that I shall speak more of it should we all survive this!"

A bat dived at Yao, who used her bow to hit it in the head and send it to the ground. She then reached for another arrow from her quiver, but grabbed only air.

"Damn, I'm out!" she cursed before once again using her bow as a bludgeoning tool.

"Do you know how to control a wagon?" Lelei asked over the screaming bats.

"Yes-" Yao started only for Lelei to cut her off.

"Then take the reins, I'll use magic to hold them off until we can get to the Fort!"

"How long until we reach this fort?" Yao asked as she slid next to Lelei and took the reins from the young mage.

"We're ten miles out from the fort, but there's an outpost that guards this road half a mile through these hills, guarded by soldiers! If we make it there, they can help us fight!"

Lelei then picked up her staff from the back of the wagon, and raised it into the air; it began to glow with arcane power, and she closed her eyes and began to chant.

Then, eyes opening, she fired bolts of elemental magic from her staff's crystal, knocking several bats out of the sky with each blast.

"Your magic is a great boon." Yao stated as she held onto the reins for dear life, "You would not happen to have more potent spells that are capable of taking out the whole swarm though, do you?"

"I'm afraid not." Lelei replied as he fired another magic bolt.

"I thought as much."

* * *

 **Southern Outpost**

"Sigmar dammit!" Klaus cursed as he watched the outcome of the dice, "Today is not my day."

"It's never your day when it comes to gambling." One of his fellow soldiers replied mirthfully as he collected the money, "But you're too stupid to stop; which is fortunate for me. Truly, these winnings prove that Sigmar smiles upon me."

"Piss off Rutger." Klaus grumbled.

Garrisoning the southern outpost, little more than two sentry towers on either side of the road, was not the most glorious of jobs in the Alnus March. Long hours of monotony, broken up by encounters with the locals, who for the most part were harmless. It was far more preferable than manning a fort in the beastmen infested woods of the Reikwald.

"I'll be thanking you both to not take the Ur-Emperor's name in vain." The sergeant, a short, heavy set man with a long beard, snapped as he walked up to the two soldiers, who immediately stood to attention, "Bad enough that we're in a land surrounded by heathens and mutants. DO I make myself clear?"

" Yes sergeant!" both Klaus and Rutger shouted simultaneously.

"You should both be glad that the Lector of Father Wilhelm were not here to hear you blaspheme. They'd-"

The sergeant's next words were cut off as he looked at something behind the two soldiers. Klaus and Rutger looked at each other, and then behind them.

"Isn't that the mage girl and the elf?" Klaus asked as he saw Lelei's wagon and Tuka's horse turn a corner and come racing down the road, "What in the name of Sigmar is their hurry?"

"Shut up!" the sergeant snapped, "What's that noise?"

It was then that the soldiers saw the swarm of bats bearing down on the girls.

"Oh hell- everyone we're under attack!" the sergeant shouted, and all the idle soldiers rushed to their positions, "Handgunners and crossbowmen, aim for the sky! Halberdiers, form ranks, and watch your heads! And for Sigmar's sake, someone set the smoke signals and let the Fort know we're about to be attacked!"

As the men formed ranks, the wagon and the horse came to abrupt stops in front of them.

"Mage!" the sergeant shouted as he walked up to Lelei, who standing in the wagon, "What did you bring upon our heads?"

"Not I; her." Lelei responded in heavily accented Reikspiel, as she pointed to Yao, "These bats are chasing this dark elf."

"A dark elf- never mind. Those aren't natural bats." He stated.

"Clearly, they are under the direction of a mage- "

"You don't understand girl; I've done a tour in Sylvania." He stated, "If I'm right, then those bats are under the control of something far worse than just a simple mage! You need to get back to Fort Griffon, and tell the Prince to send help! We've already set the smoke signal, but the Prince needs to know just what it is that we're up against. We'll hold them off for as long as we can!"

Lelei nodded uttered a few Saderan words to Yao, who nodded and snapped on the reins; the horses and wagon began to race towards Fort Griffon, Tuka close behind.

"Men of Reikland, steel yourselves!" the sergeant shouted, "We face unholy monsters this day! Keep your wits about you, or else we're all as good as dead! These things can fly, but a well-aimed thrust can kill em easy! Handgunners and crossbowmen, pick your targets carefully! Halberdiers, don't let yourselves get swarmed! Do all this, and mayhap we can survive until the Prince gets here with reinforcements! For SIgmar! For Reikland! For the Empire and for Karl Franz!"

A mere second after the men repeated the battle cries, the first of the bats swooped down upon them.

All the men were focused on fighting off the bats, unaware of the stealthy undead slipping through the chaos of the battle, chasing after the wagon.

* * *

 **Fort Griffon**

"My Prince!" a Reiksguard Knight exclaimed as he barged into the room.

"What has happened?" Erhardt asked as he stood up from his dinner table. He had been dining with his closest advisors as well as Princess Pina; for a Reiksguard to disturb his meal meant that something urgent had occurred.

"The distress smoke from the southern outpost has been sighted. They're under attack."

"The we've no time to waste." Erhardt stated, "Round up the pistoliers and the knights! We'll need to reinforce them fast."

"Prince Erhardt." Pina said as she too stood up, "I request that I be allowed to accompany you."

"The more the merrier." Erhardt replied with a nod, "More people who know how to use a sword won't hurt."

"You are a diplomatic envoy from Sadera." Natter, speaking Saderan with a heavy Reikspiel accent, pointed out as he rose from his seat, "Should anything happen to you, then this treaty will be dead in the womb."

"With all due respect, Lector, that outcome is just as probable should your Prince fall in combat." Pina said, "I will go with him to ensure that doesn't happen, and to prove the commitment of Sadera for this treaty."

Natter sighed, "Well then, Prince Erhardt, if that is the case then the Knights of the Ruby Cross and I will join you as well."

"I thank you Lector. I look forward to seeing the Knights of the Ruby Cross in action."

* * *

 **Southern Outpost**

He watched as his bats swarmed the mortals; attacking with teeth and claws, the beating of their leathery wings mixing with the pitiful screams of men. Such beautiful music…

His name was Quintus, and for twenty-five long years, he was a servant of Elbe. His talents were overlooked by a foolish king, and all he could do was watch while others, wastes of human sperm, obtained the high offices and glories that were rightfully his! He was not the only one, oh no! Many in Elbe's government were passed over by those less worthy, simply because their family lines were not as old or 'prestigious.'

Then Lord Mannfred came… and he offered the gift of eternal life. All he asked for in return was their undying loyalty.

Prince Remus and a handful of others, Quintus included, took Mannfred's offer, being immortal, and all powerful. With the absence and later the deaths of King Duran and his council at both Alnus and Italica, Remus took power, and the Elban vampires took their rightful places within the Elban government. What followed was the consolidation of their power, and the subversion of all who opposed them. Soon, Lord Mannfred would be poised to take control of the entire peninsula, and then, the continent, and each of the vampires had their parts to play.

Quintus' role was to hunt down the dark elves who had escaped Remus. After days of searching all he could find was the one harlot; but she would lead him to the rest, making her capture his primary goal.

He was not expecting her to run into the Outlanders, nor for his bat swarm to fight them. This was a delay that he could not afford… but the smell of blood… that ruby red liquid… it was overpowering.

Reason was slowly slipping away for Quintus. He had to find the elf harlot, make her talk-

A bat had just sunk its fangs into a man's neck, spraying blood into the air.

Quintus leapt off his horse and ran down the hill towards the battle, drawing his sword and letting loose a war cry. Faster than any human, he waded into the melee, decapitating a man with a single swing of his blade, before licking his blood-soaked sword.

"Yes!" he shouted to the heavens, "This is the ultimate pleasure!"

Cackling, Quintus threw himself into the battle, slashing and biting any who came close, whether they be human, or his own bats.

* * *

 **Southern Road - Five miles to Alnus Hill**

"We have escaped them!" Yao shouted as she scanned the sky.

"It appears that the human soldiers are keeping the bats occupied." Lelei observed as took back control of the reins, "Good for us; we only need to focus on getting back to the fort now- "

Two arrows flew from the darkness and embedded themselves in the skulls of the horses pulling the wagon, killing them instantly.

With no time to spare, Yao grabbed Lelei and leapt off the wagon before the death of the horses caused it to overturn and crash. The dark elf and mage rolled when they hit the ground, and Yao felt several of her ribs crack.

"Lelei!" Tuka shouted as she turned her horse around and raced back towards her fallen friend.

Yao let go of Lelei, and both women slowly stood up. Yao looked around, searching for the archer who killed the horses, and her eyes widened when she saw something run towards her, holding a blade in each hand.

Quickly, and ignoring the pain in her body, Yao drew her own sword just in time to parry her assailant's strikes.

Yao looked at her opponent, and almost dropped her sword in shock; though his face was sunken in, she recognized that it was Kaon.

"How- "she started to ask before bringing up her sword to parry her undead opponent's quick stab to her throat. With her injuries from the fall, it was a struggle for Yao to keep up with the undead's strikes.

The undead Kaon pressed its attack, leaping forward with both blades outstretched, aimed for Yao's heart and face. Lelei, who had finally shaken off the disorientation from the fall, chanted under her breath and let loose a fire spell, which hit Kaon's left side, setting it alight and sending the thing to the ground.

"You seemed surprised when it attacked us." Lelei observed as she walked over to Yao, "Why?"

"He was an old friend." Yao said as she turned her back on Kaon's burning corpse, "He died several weeks ago, -"

"Died?" Lelei asked, "You mean you thought he died."

"No, he did actually die."

"If he died, then how is he here now- "

"Lelei watch out!" Tuka cried.

Lelei turned around and saw the corpse of Kaon, still alight from her magical fire, stand and advance on her, still holding both of its swords.

"Dear La." Lelei uttered wide eyed.

The burning Kaon took a step towards both girl and elf. Then an arrow embedded itself in the corpse's skull.

With an unnatural motion, it turned its neck to gaze upon Tuka, who had her bow out and was drawing another arrow upon the back of her horse.

The undead ran towards Tuka, who loosed arrow after arrow into it, slowing it down but not stopping it. When it got close enough, it leapt into the air to stab the young elf.

Faster than any human, Tuka had already thrown aside her bow and instead drew a longsword from the sheath strapped to her saddle. With a single swift arc, Tuka's sword separated the undead Kaon's horse from its neck.

The loss of its head did not stop the undead's momentum, and while it dropped the blades in its hands, the body still crashed into Tuka, sending both elf and corpse tumbling to the ground.

"Tuka!" Lelei shouted as she ran over to her friend, followed by a limping Yao.

"I-I'm fine." Tuka said slowly. She was on the ground, while the undead dark elf was sprawled over her. Gingerly, Tuka sat up, pushing the dead body off her before resting her head in her hand, "I think I may have hit my head on the ground though… Everything's spinning… alright, I definitely hit my head."

"That could be serious." Lelei stated as she knelt down beside Tuka, "We'll get you to the Sisters of Shallya back at the Fort, they'll take a look at you. Here, give me your shoulder. Dark elf-"

"My name is Yao Haa Dushi." Yao said.

"Yao then; I know you are injured as well, but can you help me move Tuka back to her horse?"

"I can." Yao answered as she slowly walked over to the other two women, "I am used to working through pain."

"Thank you Lelei." Tuka whispered as she complied with the mage girl's request, wrapping her left arm around Lelei's shoulder, and her right arm around Yao.

"I didn't know you knew how to use a sword." Lelei said as the trio began to move towards Tuka's horse, which had wandered a few yards away after its rider had been knocked to the ground, "I thought the sword was just for show."

"I have spent a lot of time watching Vanon and his fellow warriors undergo weapon drills back in Ulthuan." Tuka explained, "It was only natural that I picked up a few things."

"I beg pardon, but what is Ulthuan?" Yao asked, "Is it an Outlander Kingdom?"

"It is." Tuka answered with a whisper, "I can speak more of it later when my head is not throbbing."

"Of course, I apolo- hold." The three women stopped, "A large band of riders is coming from the north."

"It must be the Imperial troops." Lelei said, "They must have seen the outpost's signal fire and sent reinforcements."

Sure enough, dozens of armored knights and pistoliers came down the road, armed to the teeth. Among the banners that were being carried, Lelei and Tuka recognized the griffon banner of Prince Erhardt in the front of the company, curiously enough, along with the rose banner of Princess Pina Co Lada's order.

"Lady Tuka, Lady Lelei?" Prince Erhardt, accompanied by Lector Natter, Sir Siegfried, and Princess Pina, asked in his heavily accented common tongue, as his horse came to a stop in front of the trio. He held up his hand to halt the rest of the horsemen and knights, "You look as if you were in a fight; what happened?"

" _Your Highness, we were being chased by a swarm of large bats, and then set upon by an undying monster_." Lelei explained in Reikspiel, " _Tuka had to take its head before it died_."

" _Did she say an undying foe_?" a grim faced bearded man asked as he rode up to Erhardt, " _And large bats as well_?"

" _I did, Sir_ …" Lelei started, unsure of the stranger's name.

" _I am Commander Morgan Bernhardt_." He replied, " _And it seems, Prince Erhardt, that even this land is cursed by the living dead_."

" _The live dead_? Outrageous." Princess Pina stated in her own limited understanding of Reikspiel, " _No such creatures exist in Falmart_."

" _No, but they do in our world_." Bernhardt replied, " _If the Princess is correct, then it seems that men of the Empire aren't the only immigrants to Falmart, Prince_."

"What are they saying?" Yao asked in the common tongue, "What did you tell them?"

"I told them about the creatures we just fought." Lelei explained, "The bats and your undying friend."

"If you're telling them that, then also tell them about the thing that leads them; a pale skinned monster that drinks blood."

"A pale monster?" Lelei asked, "How do you know it drinks blood?"

"I did not set out on my journey alone." Yao said, "I saw it drain several old friends of their blood."

"What did you say?" Erhardt interjected, moving his horse closer to a surprised Yao, "Did you say that a blood sucking monster leads these beasts?"

"I- yes." Yao said with a nod, "It was monsters such as these that drove me people from their homes."

"Vampire." Erhardt stated in Reikspiel, "We face a Sigmar-damned vampire."

Erhardt motioned for several pf his Reiksguard to come over before addressing the trio again.

"These knights will escort you three back to the fort. Lady Tuka, your head injury looks serious, and no offense to you, Lady Lelei, but you and your new companion do not look much better."

"I understand." Lelei nodded, "Good luck to you Your Highness."

Erhardt watched as the two knights helped Tuka back onto her horse, and then leading the trio back to the Fort.

"A vampire." He muttered again, "And here I was thinking that the ruinous powers were the worse of it."

"Steel yourself Prince Erhardt." Natter said from Erhardt's left, "For it seems that we must do Sigmar's work this night."

The Lector reached to his side and pulled out a deadly flail, whose head was inscribed with runes and holy symbols of the twin tailed comet. He then turned his horse around and faced the men.

"Men of the Empire!" Natter shouted, "Tonight we face the blasphemous forces of the undead, led by an unholy vampire! Harden your resolve, for though some of us may die tonight, we die doing Sigmar's bidding! For few foes are as worthy of his destruction as the vampire and its minions! Now forward, and send the dead back to their graves!"

The knights and other horsemen let loose a cheer at Natter's rousing words.

"A word of advice Prince." Natter said as he faced Erhardt again, flail out, "Never let your men see your fear; if they think you are afraid, then the battle is already lost, let alone the war."

"You think there will be war Lector?"

"Perhaps. I've experience with vampire. Call it a gut feeling, but I think we may be dealing with more than one vampire in the future."

Erhardt nodded grimly. He tried to hide it, but in that moment, he was terrified; he knew the tales of the Von Carsteins, and how they almost tore down the Empire and turned it into an undead kingdom. Chaos cultist were one thing, but a vampire…

"Prince Erhardt," Pina began, "Forgive me, but what is a Vampire?"

"An inhuman monster Princess." Erhardt answered, "Stronger, faster, and deadlier than any man. Those cursed things drink the blood of mortals to remain ageless and powerful. I implore you; should you come face to face with one of the field, _run_."

* * *

"Steel your hearts men of Reikland!" Erhardt commanded, "For battle is upon us!"

Erhardt's band of riders had finally arrived at the Outpost, only to find it swarmed with large bats, who were overwhelming the garrison through sheer numbers.

Immediately, the pistoliers and outriders began firing into the air, bringing down as many of the flying monsters as they could, while the knights rode forth, swords swinging in an almost mechanical precision, hacking and slashing any of the bats that got close, and driving them away from the stricken garrison.

Erhardt looked across the Outpost, trying to find the vampire responsible for leading this swarm. His eyes finally caught a man dressed in the armor of the locals, armed with one of their short, stabbing swords, carve his way into a group of state troops like they were standing still. Most disturbingly of all, fresh blood was dripping down from the corners of the man's mouth.

"There it is!" Erhardt shouted to several of his pistoliers while pointing at the vampire, "There's the vampire! Shoot it! Shoot it now!"

The men followed their prince's command, took aim, and fired into the vampire. Several shots managed to hit the undead monster, with one managing to hit it in the chest.

The vampire, now enraged, looked for whatever had hurt it, eyes settling on the pistoliers beside Erhardt. With a bestial snarl, it leapt into the air, landed next to one of the pistoliers, grabbed his leg, and ripped him off his horse. The vampire then sunk his teeth into the screaming man's neck, intent on draining all of his blood.

Forcing his fear down, Erhardt drew his sword and lashed out at the vampire, intent on cutting off its head. The vampire was too fast though, and managed to side step the blade, which only managed to scratch its cheek. It was forced to let go of the pistoliers, who got up and ran away from the vampire.

"Monster!" Erhardt shouted, "Your fight is with me, beast!"

Under normal circumstances, Erhardt knew that he was no match for a vampire. These weren't normal circumstances, however. He had already cut the cheek of this monster, something that should be impossible.

Was this animal a newborn? Not yet grown into its power? If that was the case, then there was a chance that Erhardt could kill it himself.

"A fight? Oh no, Outlander, this is not a fight..." it replied, licking the dripping blood from his mouth, "This is hunting for my next meal. I think you'll do nicely."

The vampire charged Erhardt, striking out with his blade faster than any mortal man, and it was all the Reiklander Prince could do to parry the blows. Oh, what a fool he had been! A fledgling this unholy creature may be, but a vampire was still a vampire. Unless he did something soon, it would kill him.

Erhardt reached behind his back with his left hand, and pulled out a pistol, aiming it right in the vampire's face. In response, the vampire bared its fangs and lunged at the prince. As quick as he could, he pulled the trigger.

The bullet entered the Vampire's open mouth, and exited through the back of its head, blowing off its jaw and creating a huge hole just above the base of the neck.

Unlike a mortal man, this did not kill the monster. It was a testament to the vampire's unholy durability that it still 'lived.' Instead of dying, the vampire dropped to its knees, grabbing its injured jaw, and trying to howl in bestial rage and pain.

This was the opening he had been waiting for. Erhardt thrust his sword forward, and impaled the monster between its eyes before quickly removing it. Its lifeless body fell to the ground, its eyes filled not with pain, but with surprise.

The death of the vampire was felt instantly across the battlefield. The bats began to scatter, taking off into the night. The men all cheered at this turn of events, and those with guns began to fire them with the intent to bring down a few more bats.

"Well done my Prince." Natter said as he rode up to Erhardt, "You've managed to not only survive an encounter with a vampire, but you managed to kill it as well."

The Lector's mace was bloodied, but aside from that, Natter did not look like a man who had partaken in battle.

"I think it was a young vampire, Lector." Erhardt admitted, "If it was older, more experienced, I believe it would have been I lying dead tonight, instead of it."

"Then let us thank Sigmar that it was just a fledgling." Natter replied, "In any case, that vampire was clearly a local."

"What are you getting at Lector?"

"A vampire from our side of the Gate turned this man into an abomination of undeath. We killed the fledgling, but the master still remains at large.

"This is not over Prince." Natter said as he turned his horse around, "I suggest that we return to the Fort, and see what the dark-skinned elf has to say for herself."

* * *

 _Fort Griffon_

"… after we had managed to find a temporary sanctuary, I volunteered to come here," Yao Haa Dushi explained to the assembled Imperials, "To ask permission to settle for our old and young to here in the safety of your fort, and for your assistance in driving out the Elbans."

"So, the King of Elbe is a vampire." Erhardt repeated, "And he raised an undead force to drive your people, the… dark elves… from your home. He also sent the vampire that attacked our outpost to hunt you down. That is at least two newborn vampires on this side of the Gate… not counting their sire of course."

"That's the least of our problems." Morgan Bernhardt interrupted, "Vampires are capable of raising large numbers of undead. This land has no Gardens of Morr, no defense against Necromancy."

Erhardt's eyes widened. He knew the implications that Bernhardt was making.

"Princess Pina," Erhardt addressed his guest, "How long have people lived in Elbe?"

"Over a thousand years." She answered, "If the elf and Commander Bernhardt speak true, then your vampire has the potential to raise an undead host in the tens, if not hundreds of thousands."

Immediately, the entire room erupted into a chorus of noise. An undead horde? Hundreds of thousands strong? They'd be overrun!

"My Lords- "Natter spoke in order to get everyone's attention, but to no avail.

Bernhardt slammed his fist into the table, creating a loud noise. That got everyone's attention.

"Thank you Commander." Natter said with a nod, "Be not afraid of the undead. Our ancestors defeated the likes of Vlad and Mannfred. Surely, we will overcome here as well. We must act fast though."

"Indeed." Erhardt agreed, "I will send a message to my father, the Emperor, asking him for reinforcements. In the meantime, we must gather the men, and make ready to march south, to Elbe. This is a threat that we cannot ignore."

"Prince Erhardt." Pina said as she stood, "Allow my Rose Order to join you in this campaign. If the vampires are as great a threat as you say, then one day will threaten my people."

"I graciously accept your help." Erhardt replied, before turning to Yao, "As for you Lady Yao, I accept your petition of sanctuary. Your people will be allowed to settle here until the crisis has passed."

"I thank you Prince." She replied.

* * *

That night, the Fort was abuzz with activity as the army, it's numbers now bolstered with mercenaries, began to prepare for the long march south.

"When I came here, I wasn't expecting to fight vampires." Erhardt admitted to Natter.

"None of us were. Still, this provides us with an opportunity."

"How so?"

"Once we defeat the undead, Elbe will be in a state of turmoil. It will be a perfect opportunity for us to add more lands to this March."

"How opportunistic of you Lector."

"I take that as a compliment. I wish you luck in your war, but for now, I must leave the fort."

"Leave? Now, of all times? Where are you going?"

"Italica. I saw the map of the lands the Empire was going to sign over to us; Italica is not among them. Located at the crossroads of two highways, whomever controls Italica will control the flow of goods from east to west. I intend to bring the Countess into our camp."

"I see… I wish you luck then. When you are finished, however, join the army. We will need a Lector of you experience when the time comes to face the master vampire."

"Of course my Prince."

* * *

 _Several days after the Skirmish on the Southern Road_

Elbe

"My Lord," Remus said as he walked through the door leading to the tower's balcony, "I've returned from the Forest. The elves have been driven from-"

"Quiet." Mannfred, dressed in his black armor, with a red cape draped over his shoulders, ordered as the elder vampire gazed at the moon, "Trouble me not with minor details of your campaign. Tonight, is the fruition of all mine own plans"

"Of course, My Lord." Remus replied with a bow, "I shall leave you."

"Didst I sayeth leave?" Mannfred asked with a dangerous tone. Remus said nothing, but nervously stepped forward.

"Look upon the moon, Remus," Mannfred said as he pointed at the celestial body in question, "What can thee tell me of it?"

"It is full this night, My Lord."

"Forsooth. Tis what I has't been waiting for almost a year."

"The full moon?"

"Not just any full moon Remus… bid me, what doth thee knoweth of mine own world?"

"It is a place of great power, and the birthplace of our gift of immortality. Beyond that, I am afraid my knowledge is lacking."

"Aye, we shalt has't to correct yond one day." Mannfred admitted before continuing, "I prepareth for the ritual yond shall raiseth our mighty host. I has't hath found a land full of dead, waiting to riseth and doth their master's bidding…"

Remus saw that Mannfred then reached into his cape, and pulled out a large, dusty tome, bound with a strange leather, with strange writing inscribed upon it's bindings.

"I has't did search far and wide, high and base, for this grimoire, a Book of Nagash, the father of our magical arts." He continued, before returning the book to his cape.

He then gestured to the great sarcophagus, full of warpstone.

"I has't did secure a chest of warpstone, taken from the ratmen at most wondrous did cost, but well worth the expense.

"I hath gathered all the components I need for this ritual, to recreate the act yond mine own sire, Vlad von Carstein, didst in days of yore… but there was one, crucial component missing. One thing remains that I require to truly accomplish a spell of this magnitude… the moon. It must be full this night."

"I don't understand Lord, there have been full moons in the past. Why must it be full now?"

"Oh, young Remus, it hast nothing to do with thy moon… and everything to do with the moon of mine own world. For you see, our worlds are connected, with the Gates serving as bridges between the two. On this night, however… oh, this night. "Mannfred was growing excited now, almost shaking with anticipation.

"A revelation wast revealed to me Remus… tonight, our two worlds shall be closer than ever, and in a few short minutes, the planes of reality on which those worlds reside shall merge, and the final piece of the ritual shall cometh to us! Only an hour shall it lasts, but t shalt be all that I require to chargeth mine own spell! In thy world, tonight is but any other night! It is nothing. In mine own world, it is everything! In mine own world, Morrsleib, the Chaos Moon, is full!

"In mine own world, tonight, it is **Geheimnisnacht**!"

It was then, that something began to eclipse the moonlight. Remus looked into the sky, and was shocked by what he saw. Slowly but surely, there was another moon in the sky. It was nothing like his native one though; it glowed with a sickly green color, and upon its surface, it bore a great resemblance to a skull.

"Behold Morrsleib, the Chaos moon!" Mannfred shouted, his arms outstretched, "Tonight on Geheimnisnacht, it is full, and though the merging of the planes this night, it hovers over both two worlds! Mine, and yours! On this night, magic is at its greatest! It will give me the power to summon the greatest undead legion in the history of the world! Never before has this world seen such a host, nor will it ever again!"

With that, Mannfred took out the Book of Nagash, and began to read from it. Remus could not understand the language, but even he could feel the power of the spell that Mannfred was casting.

' _Such power_ ,' the King of Elbe thought to himself, ' _One day, it will be mine_ …'

* * *

Reading from the book of Nagash, and empowered by both the warpstone, and by the Chaos Moon, Mannfred's power grew, and grew, and his spell swept across the land. From the city of Elbe, it's neighboring kingdoms, and all the way to Italica, the dead began to rise.

In every graveyard and masaleum, the dead rose from their resting places. From the newly dead, to the ancient, they rose to their feet, clawing their way out of wooden coffins and dirt, pushing off stone slabs, or simply raising themselves from the ground where they fell. It did not matter how they died, or where they were buried; all rose, and all began to march.

Ignoring the living, and compelled to arm themselves with whatever they could lay their cold hands upon, the dead marched towards Elbe, where their master was. They would gather together in the largest undead horde since the heydays of the Von Carsteins, during the Vampire Wars. Three times the Von Carsteins rose up to claim the Empire that was rightfully theirs, and three times, they were denied by small minded men.

Not this time however. This time, Mannfred would claim a new continent, a new world, and all the souls that dwelled there for himself.

This would be the Age of the Vampire!

* * *

All across the continent, beyond Elbe, the appearance of the Chaos Moon affected all who stood under its sickly light.

In isolated towns and villages, mutations grew and appeared upon the bodies of the common folk of the Empire, human and demihuman alike.

In the forests, animals stood up on two legs, and brayed at the moon.

There were only two places where men who truly understood what was happening dwelled. One was Alnus Hill, and the other Sadera…

* * *

 _Alnus Hill_

"Spirits!" a soldier cried out as apparitions began to swarm in the sky, "This hill is haunted!"

All over Alnus, apparitions appeared in the night sky, emerging when the chaos Moon suddenly appeared. The spirits of the dead, slain in the bloody battles over the Gate, letting loose screams of terror, striking fear into the hearts of all.

"What is happening!" Pina asked as she and Erhardt stood in the center of the fort, terrified soldiers running around them, "How is this possible?"

"Morrsleib…" Erhardt whispered "The Chaos Moon is full in the sky. This is impossible. It may be Geheimnisnacht, but this should be impossible!"

" **Enough**!" a strong voice shouted.

Erhardt, Pina, and many others turned around and saw Father Wilhelm approach, in full armor, followed closely behind by the College Mages.

"This is the work of dark magic!" the warrior priest shouted, "Terrible they may be, but they are still nothing before the power of Sigmar! Behold!"

Wilhelm raised his hammer and shouted at the sky.

"Evil spirits! I do not fear you! Come at me! Come and taste the might of Sigmar, who will banish you to Morr's realm once more!"

As if responding to his challenge, the spirits descended upon the warrior priest. Erhardt moved forward to assist the priest, hand on his blade, but stopped when he saw what happened next.

Wilhelm was glowing gold, and the ghosts were repulsed from him, disappearing into the air in the face of his holy might.

"See!" Wilhelm shouted for all to hear, "See how they shrink away to nothingness before the righteous! Fear not these spirits oh Sons of Sigmar! For they are nothing before the Ur-Emperor's strength!"

The mages behind Wilhelm all began to cast their own spells, banishing the spirits will arcane might. As if the madness and terror had been banished with them, the men all stopped their panic, and instead looked to the warrior priest, with a mixture of awe and respect.

"Men of the Empire!" Wilhelm continued, "This blasphemous act was done by the accursed vampires, who rise in the south! We march for war against these abominations! Mighty though they are, they will fall before you, oh brave Sons of Sigmar! Do not let fear claim your hearts! Instead, tear down the walking dead, and in case death has made them forget, teach them the meaning of fear instead! Sigmar Vult!"

"Sigmar Vult!" all the soldiers cried out, Erhardt among them. While the fear was still there, it would not keep them from doing their duty for both Sigmar and Empire.

* * *

 _Sadera_

"It appears the vampire has done it." The Councilor said as he looked up at the moon.

The white raven upon his shoulder cawed in response.

"Indeed," the old man replied, "All goes according to plan… All hail the Great Deceiver."


	6. Chapter 6

_The forests of northeastern Falmart, One Week after Geheimnisnact_

"Oi, Wizard!" a dwarf yelled as he pulled open the tent flaps, "Dinner's ready! Come and get it while it's still hot!"

"Yes Dron, in a moment." Cato, Elder Sage and current guide to the dwarfs, said as he furiously wrote down notes beside the sketch he had made earlier of a gyrocoptor in flight, "I just need to finish this, and then I'll join everyone."

"Bah." Dron grunted as he closed the tent flaps "Suit yerself. Don ye come crying to me when it's cold though!"

"Deal!" Cato called out as he dipped his quill into the ink bowl once more.

Truly, this trip he had taken was most fascinating! In all his long years of living as a traveling Elder Sage, Cato had never interacted with this dwarves for this long before! True, these dwarves were from another world, but still! They were always such a secretive race, kept to themselves, and always on the move. One could go their whole life without ever meeting a dwarf. For whatever reason, those stout nomads kept to the northern forests and mountains, and save for a handful of individuals, they never ventured outside their range and into Saderan Territory.

So many unanswered questions… and now, he was on the trail to discovering the answers!

Of course, he was not alone in this. In fact, he was merely along for the ride, serving as a dual guide/adviser to Thane Kregan, the leader of this band of Outlander dwarves. While few could truly call themselves 'experts' on the nomad dwarves, even with his scarce knowledge, Cato knew that the outlanders were nothing like the ones of his world. For starters, their armor and weapons were of greater quality and greater design than even the Reiklanders! Cannons with multiple guns, flying machines, the most advanced catapults he had ever seen, and the most expertly crafted weapons and armor that, should a Senator buy a set, it would cost a hefty fortune.

There was also their mistrust of magic… if Erhardt's people were uneasy around mages, then the dwarves were outright disdainful of them. To them, magic was untrustworthy, dangerous, and more than one dwarf acted as if he was going to explode at any moment.

Cato was used to being treated differently by people; whether it was as a respected scholar of the arcane arts, or as a mostly harmless eccentric varied from person to person.

Cato had never been feared before… Not like this. Adversaries being wary of his magical power was one thing, but to be treated like an inhuman monster? He didn't know how to feel about that, and neither did young Lelei.

Cato grimaced at the memory of his young apprentice. He felt slightly guilty about leaving her behind, but she was old enough handle herself. Plus, she was safe at Fort Griffon. For all of Prince Erhardt's many flaws as a ruler, Cato was sure that the Outlander prince wouldn't let that witch hunter harm Lelei.

While the glares from the dwarves were disheartening at first, Cato found that he enjoyed their company. They were an honest, straightforward lot. They let you know exactly where you stood with them, and after over a month of traveling with them, serving as both guide and translator, Cato was glad to have formed a sort of rapport with several individuals, Dron, what the dwarves called a 'longbeard' in particular. While the dwarf would probably be forever uneasy around his magic, Dron was starting to act friendly around Cato, albeit in the brusque, rough sort of way that Cato found was universal among their stout race.

Cato liked to think the longbeard was accepting him because Dron appreciated his use as a translator and a guide. When he asked him about it, he was surprised by the answer.

"It's cause you have a fine beard!" Dron had explained, "Anyone with a beard that long and well-groomed can't be all bad, even if he is manling, and a mage at that!"

Cato laughed at that memory.

Yes, despite all the initial bumps in the road, Cato did not regret accompanying the dwarves on their journey. To commemorate this, he had begun to keep a log of the trip; writing down the day's events, and sketching individuals, as well as their fantastical war machines. One day, he hoped to share his experiences with the rest of the world, to show just how unique and different dwarves were from humankind.

"There." Cato said as he set down his quill, "That should do it."

With that, the wizard stood up, grabbed his staff, and left the tent, making his way to one of the many campfires. Eventually, he found Dron sitting at one, surrounded by several youngbeards. No doubt the old dwarf was regaling a tale from his past.

"Hello Dron." Cato said as he sat down next to the longbeard, "I hope that dinner has not become cold in my absence."

"Just in time Wizard." Dron said as he passed Cato a bowl of stew, "Snorri and his rangers caught us some rabbits earlier today. Nice and tender, meat fell right off the bone."

"Thank you." Cato replied as he took the bowl and began eating, only pausing to look around the campfire, "Speaking of Snorri, where is he? He's usually back from patrol by now."

"That was before the Chaos Moon appeared in the sky." Dron said as he spat upon the ground, "Now Thane Kregan has doubled the patrols, lest some band of mutants attack us unawares!"

"It's only been a week though since the green moon. Could a band of these… what do you call them?" Cato asked, "Beastmen. That's what you called them. Could a band of those monsters really have formed in such a time?"

"Tis possible." Dron answered, "Those monsters are drawn together that moths to a flame. I didn't think it was possible for the Chaos Moon to appear in your sky, but there it was, spreading it's evil. No doubt about it; Ar'Uzkul has no doubt brought the scourge of civilization to your world."

"How do you think it happened?" Cato asked.

"Well, I'm no wizard, so I couldn't begin to speculate on such things. Only thing that makes sense is that, somehow, those gates brought it here."

Cato 'hmm'd' and went back to his stew. Finding out what had happened that night, one week ago, was on his list of priorities. Somehow, one of the other world's moons had appeared in the sky, and according to his traveling companions, it somehow spread evil all across Falmart; mutating animals and men alike, and empowering evil wizards.

Cato had yet to see any of these mutants, but he had no reason to doubt the dwarves on this. He would have to cross that bridge when he came to it.

"Enough talk of the Chaos Moon." Dron exclaimed, "Let me tell you a story from my youth; bout when I was barely an adult and I came face to face with a giant lizard _riding_ another, even larger lizard-"

 _'_ _I hope Snorri gets here soon.'_ Cato thought as he listened intently to Dron's story with fascination, _'_ _It would be a shame if he missed this.'_

* * *

Snorri Goldshirt, ranger for Thane Kregan's throng, slowly opened his eyes as he regained consciousness. He had a splitting headache, and he was just starting to become aware that his hands were bound together behind his back.

Also, two pairs of hands were gripping his arms and dragging him across the ground.

"What's the meaning of this!" he shouted in the language of the locals, as his blurry vision barely made out the shapes of the two figures who were dragging him," Where are me men? Where are ya taking me? Who are ya? Speak, or else I'll see to it that yer put in the Book!"

Instead of an answer, he was thrown to the ground. He grunted and snarled at that, though that served to make him more angry than hurt.

 _'_ _Oh, they're definitely getting a grudge for that if nothin else!'_ he thought. On the plus side, his vision was rapidly improving, as he could now see that he was in a tent of some kind.

"Well now, it seems that the stunted little freak can speak our language. That will make this easier."

Snorri looked up and saw the speaker.

He was an umgi, one of the locals at that, judging from his dress and how naturally he spoke the language. He was blonde, and had a cruel and arrogant smirk on his face. From the way he dressed, and from how he slouched on his gold chair, Snorri guessed that this man was rich by the standards of his kind, which meant he was poor by dawi standards. Snorri could also see that he was flanked on either side by two female mutants, with rabbit ears and furry arms and legs. All in all, the manling looked like an elf, a weakling.

Still though, he was Snorri's captor, and as soon as the bound ranger learned the manling's name, he would stop at nothing to see to it that it would be written down in Dammaz Kron.

"I don't know who you are manling." Snorri snarled, "But you've just made an enemy of my entire people today!"

"Oh no, whatever shall I do?" the man said mockingly, "The short little trogs will come after me! I am Zorzal El Caesar, Crown Prince of the Saderan Empire; your kind don't scare me. You can help me though in dealing with the rest of your party of hairy gremlins. I need information about your camp's patrols, how many warriors you have, and, most importantly, what sort of engines of war do you possess."

"I'll never help you little-"

"Your consent is not required. We have ways of making you talk." Zorzal said as he snapped his fingers.

As if on cue, someone grabbed Snorri by the back of his shirt, punched him in the face, shoved something into his mouth, and began to pour a foul, thick liquid down his throat.

Snorri tried to struggle, to close his mouth, anything, but it was no use. The vile liquid kept coming.

Zorzal laughed at the dwarf.

"In a few minutes, you'll be telling us everything you little freak. Please, spare no details."

* * *

 _Saderan Camp_

"Well?" Zorzal asked the interrogator, a large man with crooked teeth, "Is the little freak finally talking?"

"He is Your Highness. Though it took us almost all of the potion you provided."

"Damn." Zorzal cursed, cupping his chin with his hand, "That was expensive stuff. Still though, he's talking, so it is not a total loss. Tell me, what did he have to say?"

"They made their encampment in a clearing some ten miles out from here. There are at least two thousand more of the short ones there." The interrogator explained, "They're all disciplined warriors, equipped with heavy armor and master forged weapons, to say nothing of the lethality of their ranged instruments, or their cannons. The outskirts of their camp are also patrolled by rangers, highly skilled scouts. They'll know that we'll be coming before we actually get there."

"Hmm… well, it seems that no matter how we proceed, we won't be able to sneak up on them. Not unless we can somehow take out their rangers."

"Easier said than done My Lord." Tyuule, Zorzal's warrior rabbit slave, and the leader of his special 'auxiliaries' said, "It took my best scouts all skill to sneak up and pacify the one ranger without alerting his fellows. It is impossible for us to silence them all. At least one will make it back to camp; if they haven't already taken note of the absence of the dwarf we have captured."

"Well now, that does not leave us with many options… If we cannot sneak up on them, then I suppose we shall have to let them know we are coming."

"My Prince?" Tyuule asked, surprised.

"A full-on assault on their camp with my legion. Yes, yes! That will work. Alert the dragon riders; tell them to saddle up."

"What do you want done with the prisoner?" the Interrogator asked.

"He's useless now. Kill him, but before you do, shave off that ridiculous beard, and then put his head on a pike." 

* * *

"Still no sign of Snorri." A ranger said to his fellow. The two rangers were looking for Snorri, who had been missing for two hours. They had already sent a third of their number back to camp to inform Lord Kregan, while they continued the search.

Unfortunately, they had yet to turn up any sign of their brother ranger.

"I don't like this, Grunj." The other ranger replied, "If some beast grabbed him, then there should have been signs of a struggle. None of that though; just the imprint on the earth where he fell, and a set of bare footprints."

"Hear me out on this Largos," Grunj began, stroking his beard, "I'm thinking that whatever took Snorri, instead of walking on the ground, they instead carried him into the trees, to avoid leaving a trail."

"Would have to be strong to carry a full-grown dwarf. Clever too, to think of it in the first place. If you're right, then this is no beast that nabbed him."

"Aye. Something that can think took our brother."

Silence. Then Largos spoke again.

"We should return to the camp, an tell the Thane what we know, and what we suspect-"

"Shh!" Grunj hissed, "Do ye hear that?"

Both rangers fell silent, and listened. Something large was flying overhead, above the treeline, and flying quickly at that.

"What in the-" Largos began, but then Grunj held up his hand for more silence.

Something else was flew over them. Then another, and another, and another. Two dozen in all.

"They're heading towards the camp." Grunj exclaimed, "We need to get back fast!"

Largos nodded, turned in the direction of camp, but then stopped. Suddenly, he turned around ,raised his rifle, and firing a shot into the darkness.

"We have company!" he shouted as he reloaded as quickly as he could.

Out of the darkness came over a dozen figures, who would have been human if not for the rabbit ears and their furry arms and legs. They were unmistakably Falmart demihumans, and each one was armed with two cured shortswords, and decorated with fierce warpaint.

"Go!" Largos shouted as he fired again, before tossing aside his gun and pulling out an axe, "Warn the camp that the enemy is here! I'll hold em off for as long as I can!"

Grunj said nothing, but took off into the darkness towards the camp, while Largos charged headfirst into the attacking warrior rabbits.

"Come on now you harlots!" the ranger shouted, "Come and die! And when you get to whatever afterlife yer destined for, ya tell em that Largos of Karaz-A-Karak sent ya!" 

* * *

"-and when it was all over, the lizard and I parted ways, having killed over three dozen rats, and the grey seer." Dron said as he finished his tale."

"My, my, that was quite a story." Cato said as the younger dwarfs let loose a cheer.

"Aye, and twas all true! Plus, killing that grey seer managed to strike out a grudge from the book, so, as you umgi say, I killed two birds with one stone!"

Cato was about to say something, before he miraculously, over the sounds of two thousand very loud dwarves, heard something on the wind.

"Ah, what's wrong wizard?" Dron asked as he noticed Cato looking at the sky.

"I hear something coming."

"What? What do ye hear?"

"I can't tell yet… leather wings…"

Suddenly, a giant beast emerged from the treeline and descended on the camp, landing next to one of the campfires near Cato and Dron.

It was one of the Saderan Empire's famed dragon riders, and both knight dragon was dressed for war. The dragon's neck lunged forward, and it took a dwarf into its snapping jaws and swallowed him whole. Meanwhile, the rider threw a javelin at another dwarf, impaling him threw the chest.

Suddenly, another dragon landed in the camp, followed by a third, and then a fourth. Though each dragon was nothing compared to the flame dragon that destroyed his home, Cato knew that even a lesser dragon that was used in armies the world over was capable of tearing apart a company of men.

"Sons of Grungni!" a loud booming voice shouted, and Cato saw Thane Kregan, in full armor, run at one of the dragons, his axe and hammer in each hand, "Rouse yerselves and grab a weapon! We be under attack! Show em how attacking the Dawi is going to be the last mistake that they'll ever make!"

To prove his words, Kregan jumped into the air, and landed on the back of one of the lesser dragons, next to the rider. Faster than lightning, Kregan smashed his hammer into the man's skull, pulverizing it in one blow. Then the dwarf Thane leaped onto the dragon's neck, and brought his axe into the monster's skull, killing it outright.

He raised both weapons, and then shouted for all to hear;

 **"Khazukan Kazakit-ha!"**

 **"Khazukan Kazakit-ha!" Kregan repeated as he smashed his hammer into the side of a dragon's skull.**

 ** **"Khazukan Kazakit-ha!"** came the response from the dwarfed warriors, as they all tried to fight off the dragon riders' assault.**

 **Easier said than done; after Kregan had killed his first rider, the rest had taken to the air, and began swooping down on the dwarfs, killing several with each pass and making themselves harder to hit.**

 **That didn't stop them from trying.**

 **From guns to crossbows, the dwarfs grabbed as many ranged weapons as they could and opened fire on the dragons. Though most missed, a lucky few hit their target, bringing down a rider; the dragon was still alive, however, and attacked the dwarfs with wild abandon.**

 **"Ha ha!" Kregan shouted triumphantly as brought down his hammer on top of the dragon, shattering its skull and pulverizing its brains, "Come on umgi! Is this the best you can do?"**

 **No sooner had he said that than a javelin struck him in the shoulder. Kregan's armor was strong, and the tip never made it through, but the force of the throw knocked the dwarf off his feet and onto his back.**

 **"Damn!" he shouted as he tried to get back onto his feet, "That one hurt!"**

 **While Kregan tried to get his bearings, another dwarf, dressed in the garb of a ranger, ran up next to the Thane, and helped the former to his feet.**

 **"My Thane!" he said, "I bring grave news!"**

 **"Graver than us being attacked by dragons?" Kregan asked sarcastically.**

 **"Yes." The ranger replied solemnly, "A band of mutants is coming this way. They're well-armed, and there's a lot of them, several dozen at least. They will arrive in minutes, and I fear they're only the vanguard of a larger force."**

 **"Of course." Kregan growled as he gripped his warhammers, "It makes sense now. These dragons were sent to hit us at our weakest, keep us disorganized, and then they send in their main force to attack us while we're busy fighting these overgrown lizards. Which direction are they coming from?"**

 **"From the south, same as I."**

 **"Hmph. Smart, except for one mistake;**

 **"They've never fought the dawi before!"**

 **Kregan roared at the top of his lungs.**

 **"Hear me you Sons of Grungni! We're about to have more company! Everyone, grab your weapons and armor and prepare for battle! We have mutants on the way, and Ancestors only know what else! They seek to overrun us! To bury us in bodies! I say that they are fools, and walking corpses! Now, let us send them to meet their ancestors!"**

 **With that, Kregan gathered several dawi around him, and they prepared for the wave of foes that was coming to meet them.**

 **As the battle continued, the first of the warrior rabbits emerged from the tree line. Moving faster than any human, and curved short swords in each hand, they descended upon the dwarfs, prepared to slaughter them to the last.**

 **They were immediately faced with a haphazard line of several hundred dwarven warriors, led by their Thane; though there was no time to put on their thick armor, they gripped their prized weapons in their hands, and with an oath upon their lips, charged to meet the rabbits.**

 **A bloody melee ensued, as dwarfs cleaved limbs and heads from the attacker's bodies, and rabbit blades found their way to dawi necks and hearts.**

 **"Come on then ye harlots!" Kregan roared as he sent a rabbit flying with a swing of his left hammer, "Come and die! Yer blood will soak the ground a 'fore the sun rises!"**

 **Despite Kregan's confidence, he knew that his forces were in a precarious situation. If they were properly prepared, fully armed and armored, and with the cannons set up in the light of day, he knew that he could overcome these foes, no matter what numbers they brought before him.**

 **Now, however… it was night, and only a handful of his men were dressed for battle. The guns were sitting where the engineers had stored them for the night; useless in their current state, and the disciplined and unbreakable dawi lines were nonexistent; a mess of dwarfs fighting the mutants, and the dragons.**

 **"My Thane!" Dron, the longbeard, called out as he dispatched a rabbit, Cato the Elder Sage close behind him, "Umgi warriors come from the forest!"**

 **Sure enough, dozens of human soldiers emerged from the tree line, carrying their rectangle shields and short swords. Kregan recognized them; they were legionaries of the Saderan Empire, the dominant force in this world, whom the Empire umgi had been fighting.**

 **Questions such as 'why are they attacking?' and 'what do they want?' entered Kregan's mind, but ultimately, he paid them no mind. Right now, there was no time for questions; right now, the time was for action. He could discern the motives of these umgi later.**

 **For now, he would simply kill them.**

 **"Come Sons of Grungni!" he shouted, "Umgi appear before us! They think us easy prey no doubt! Let us show them why they're wrong! Don't give em an inch, and whatever ya do, don't let em close ranks! Khazukan Kazakit-ha!"**

 **Kregan shoved a rabbit out of his way, and charged at the legionaries. While on this long journey, Kregan had learned of how the legionnaires preferred to fight; namely, in organized formations. Such discipline was their strength, and how they had managed to conquer the continent.**

 **While the tree line would make it hard for the dawi to tell how many more legionnaires were coming, it also prevented the Saderans from closing ranks and making use of their formations.**

 **Divide and conquer then; keep the legionnaires separated, and kill them quick.**

 **Kregan roared and charged, several of his warriors following close behind as they waded into the legionaries, hacking limbs and smashing shields.**

 **Keeping them divided was easier said than done however; there were more and more humans emerging from the woods. Kregan and his line of warriors were being forced back, and the dragons were still attacking from above.**

 **Then a horn was blown, and the dwarf thane knew that whatever it signified was nothing good for him and his kinsmen.**

* * *

 ** _One minute ago_**

 **Tyuule watched as the Saderans pushed the dwarfs back. All was going as planned it seemed. Now it was the time to give that little prick Zorzal the signal.**

 **"It seems that it is time for the next stage of our assault." She said bitterly, and she snapped her fingers.**

 **One of the other warrior rabbits took an ornate horn from her belt, and handed it to Tyuule. The former queen than took a deep breath, and blew into it, letting loose a loud blast.**

 **From the other side of the clearing, Zorzal smiled from the back of his horse.**

 **"That's the signal men!" he shouted, and then drew his sword, "The anvil has been set in place! Time for us to be the hammer! Let's go kill those stunted freaks, and claim our prize!"**

 **Zorzal charged, and was followed by a thousand mounted lancers, charging into the middle of the dwarf camp.**

 **The dawi were stuck in between the ever-increasing number of legionaries on one side, and charging horsemen on the other. This battle was far from over, but it was not looking good for the Sons of Grungni.**

 **All the while, a pair of hazel eyes watched from the tree tops. She was dressed in worn leathers, and had a longbow in her hands. She watched the dawi, and wondered to herself;**

 ** _'Are these my people?'_**

* * *

Kregan roared and brought his hammers down upon a defeated legionary's head, crushing it to a pulpy mess, before he turned his attention to the charging horsemen, snarling throughout it all.

The dwarf lord charged towards the enemy cavalry, raising both hammers and lashing out whenever a horseman came too close. His blows would shatter the leg bones of the horses, sending both mount and rider crashing to the earth.

The battle was not going well; they were surrounded on all sides, with foot soldiers occupying his warrior's attention, and the cavalry smashing into them from behind. A classic hammer and anvil maneuver, and Kregan cursed himself for not building fortifications around his camp as soon as they settled in the clearing earlier that day.

A spear came too close to his face, and only the Thane's centuries of experience allowed him to react fast enough to dodge the tip. There was no time to worry about what he should have done now. Right now, he needed to end this battle quickly, before his entire Throng was wiped out.

Kregan needed to find the leader, and kill him. Now, which of these umgi was in charge? He wasn't as familiar with these umgi, but if they were anything like the men of the Empire, then their chief would dress himself as a peacock; those always stood out. Of course, they were Umgi after all; their leaders had no stomach for a real fight, preferring to lead from the rear.

The sounds of approaching hooves coming from the right drew his attention, and he saw an approaching horseman, with a lance aimed at Kregan's chest, only a few heartbeats away, and closing the distance between them quickly.

Kregan tried to turn to meet this threat, but he was too slow; the lance hit him square in the chest, and while his fine armor prevented the lance from skewering him, the force behind it, that of a charging destrier, sent the dwarf Thane off his feet, and fell with a crash to the ground, all breath knocked out of him, letting go of both his weapons, and hitting his head on the dirt.

Kregan groaned from the pain. Slowly, he opened his eyes, and though his vision was blurry, he saw that the horse and rider had turned around, and was trotting back towards him.

As he struggled to stand up again, two pairs of hands grabbed both of Kregan's arms, and forced him to his knees. He looked to his left, and then to his right, and saw that two of the enemy were holding him in place, cruel grins on their faces.

The horse stopped in front of him, and the rider dismounted, before kneeling down to get to eye level with Kregan, while a dozen other umgi first surrounded, and then made a shield wall around them. Though his clearing up vision, the thane took in the rider's face; he was handsome, for an umgi, but it was marred with an expression that was arrogant to the nth degree, and eyes that radiated cruelty.

"So, you're the leader?" the human said in a condescending tone, "You don't look like much, but I suppose when you are a race of stunted freaks, you make do with what little you have."

"Who are ye, and why have you attacked the Sons of Grungni?" Kregan asked.

"Who am I? I'm insulted!' the umgi said in faux outrage, "Though, being a barbaric demihuman such as yourself, from a less civilized world at that, I really shouldn't expect you to know who I am in the first place."

Kregan's eyes narrowed at the pompous human's every insult. By the ancestor gods, he'd kill this whelp sooner or later.

"Consider yourself lucky then, for I shall tell you exactly who I am." he said, smirking all the while, "I am Zorzal, and as of right now, you, and all your… _people_ , are my slaves, and your marvelous war machines are my property."

"You're hear for our cannons?" Kregan asked, "That's why you've attacked? That's why you've slain so many of my kin?"

"More or less." Zorzal admitted casually, "You see, it's come to my attention that, your weapons of war are actually stronger than those of the Outlanders. I wish to test that theory."

"The Outlanders…" realization dawned on Kregan's face, "You're a Saderan, are ye not?"

"I am more than just a mere Saderan runt." Zorzal boasted, "I am the Crown Prince of the greatest empire the world, mine or yours, has ever known!"

"Ha!" Kregan laughed, "The greatest Empire in either world was that of my kind, the Dawi! Your society is nothing compared to ours!"

"Empty boasts from a defeated… I was going to say man, but a stunted freak like you? Well, you're clearly no man."

"Nay." Kregan said, "I am a proud dawi, and the blood of mighty warriors flow threw my veins! Mere brackish water flows through yours!"

Zorzal responded by punching Kregan in the face, hard.

"Silence freak!" Zorzal snapped, then he pulled out his knife and pointed the tip at Kregan's nose, "I will not be talked down to by some demihuman! Now, watch your mouth, lest I order my men to shave that ridiculous beard off your face, like your scout. Then they shall peel the skin from your bones, and mount your head upon a pike!"

Zorzal kept making threats, but Kregan had ceased to listen. Instead, he was slowly becoming furious, as what Zorzal had told him was sinking in.

"You… shaved one of my kin?" he asked, his voice calm.

"That's what makes you upset?" Zorzal asked, perplexed, "Not the threats of torture and death, but shaving off your dead scout's beard? Tch, typical demihuman. Your primitive brain cannot comprehend danger."

"You shaved his beard." Kregan said again, more statement than question.

"Oh, in the name of the gods- Yes! I shaved his beard!" Zorzal shouted, "I drugged him, made him tell me everything he knew, and then I shaved him, and put his head on a pike!" The Prince explained all this, jabbing the tip of his knife into Kregan's nose.

Kregan closed his eyes, and then let the anger wash over him.

"That's what I'm going to do to you as well." Zorzal explained "And to the rest of your stunted freaks-"

Zorzal never finished his sentence, for it was then that Kregan lifted his head, and spat a glob into Zorzal's eye. The Prince recoiled, and brought up his free hand to his face.

It was then that Kregan put his plan into action.

His head lunged forward, and he grabbed the blade of Zorzal's dagger in-between his teeth, yanking it out of the Saderan's hands and then let it drop. With all his strength, he pulled his left arm out of the soldier's grip, and using his now free hand, grabbed the falling blade by the handle, flipped it so he was holding it upside down, and then stabbed the man whose grip he had just broken free of in the throat, before quickly pulling it out and then jamming it into the eye socket of the other soldier, driving it deep into his brain, and killing him instantly.

"You shaved his beard!" Kregan roared as Zorzal quickly tried to scurry away, " **YOU SHAVED A DAWI'S BEARD**!"

"Don't just stand there!" Zorzal shouted at his men, "Kill him quickly!"

As the prince tried to shove his way past his men, Kregan threw the dagger, and it imbedded itself right between Zorzal's shoulder blades. With a scream of blood chilling agony, Zorzal dropped to the ground. His soldiers bodily put themselves between Kregan and Zorzal, but the dwarf thane would not let them stand between him, and vengeance.

Quickly, Kregan grabbed the short swords that the humans carried, one in each hand, and charged forward. The dwarf became a whirlwind of death, cutting down every soldier who got in-between him and Zorzal.

In his peripheral vision, Kregan saw several human archers take aim at him with crossbows. When they loosed the bolts, however, a gust of wind blew the missiles away before they had a chance to hit Kregan. Then a stronger gust of wind knocked them off their feet.

Turning around, Kregan saw the Elder Sage, Cato, who gave the thane a knowing nod before returning to the fray. Kregan merely grunted as he returned his own attention to Zorzal.

"Saved by a wizard." He mumbled, "I'll never hear the end of it should that get out."

Zorzal tried to crawl away from Kregan, but to no avail. When he reached the prince, Kregan flipped Zorzal over, straddled the human's chest, and began to punch Zorzal with his armored fists.

" **YOU**! **SHAVED**! **HIS**! **BEARD**!" Kregan shouted, his words punctuating his every punch.

"Please! Please!" Zorzal pleaded through broken teeth as Kregan let up, his face now a bloody mess, "Spare me! Spare me and I'll give you anything!"

"Anything?" Kregan asked as he got off Zorzal.

"Yes! Anything! Just name it!"

"Anything eh?" Kregan then picked up one of the short swords and put it to Zorzal's throat.

"Can you bring my kin back to life?"

"I-I-" Zorzal stuttered.

"If ye can't…" Kregan began as he gripped the hilt of the sword with both hands, " **Then what good are ye**!"

Kregan then brought the sword down and stabbed Zorzal through the throat, and then began hacking at Zorzal's neck until he finally beheaded the prince.

Picking up Zorzal's head by his blond hair, Kregan raised it into the air, and let loose a loud battle cry.

" **Khazukan Kazakit-ha!"** he roared, "Dawi! My brothers and my kinsmen! Their leader is dead! And soon, they will all follow! Drive them back, and send them all to hell!"

The dawi let out a cheer, and began counterattacking with wild abandon. Axes, hammers, and swords crashed against the Saderans, and the human soldiers were unable to withstand the ferocity of the dawi. The hammer of the cavalry, and the anvil of the infantry, had failed to break the dwarfs, and now, they were paying in blood for their attack.

In addition, it was not just the dwarfs who now knew of Zorzal's death. Many legionaries and horsemen saw Kregan holding their prince's head. Their morale sunk, and their fear grew. Many began to break and run, and the dawi took advantage of this, driving them back into the woods.

Tyuule saw all this as well, and despite the glee she felt at Zorzal's passing, she knew she needed to get her warriors out of there.

"Alice!" she shouted to one of her officers. The grey furred rabbit approached the former queen, dropping to one knee.

"Yes mistress?"

"Zorzal is dead; now is the time to retreat. Find General Aurelias, the next in command, and get him out of here."

"My mistress, why should we be concerned about the Saderan's now? With Zorzal dead, we can-"

"The Emperor still has the leverage over us. We are still chained to his will, and unless at least one general survives this, then our sister's lives are forfeit; now go!"

"Yes mistress!"

Alice left, and before she herself fled into the woods, Tyuule spared one last look at the dwarf leader.

"I hope that one day, I can properly thank you." She said, "One day… but not today."

With that, she fled, and soon afterwards, the rest of the Saderans followed. 

* * *

"How many did we lose?" Kregan asked as he knelt down to a corpse of one of his throng.

"A thousand dwarfs." Dron explained, as he stood next to his Thane, Cato to the longboard's right, "And several hundred are wounded."

"Damn." Kregan cursed, "We won't survive another assault when they return. They wanted our cannons, to use against the Men of the Empire. What of our cannons Dron? Did they survive the night?"

"They survived the fight Thane Kregan, along with the ammunition and black powder."

"Good. We'll use them tomorrow, when the enemy comes again. If they want them so badly, then they'll have them! We may die, but we'll send the bastards to hell first!"

"You don't have to die." A soft voice said, "I know an escape route."

The two dwarfs and a mage turned around, and were greeted with a shocking sight. Standing before them, dressed in animal skin leathers, was a female dwarf, with long red hair, and leaf green eyes. At her waist were two hatchets, and slung across her back was a bow and quiver full of arrows. This dwarf was accustomed to living in the woods, and she carried herself with a confidence born of experience. Behind her was a crowd of the curious warriors of Kregan's Throng.

As for Kregan himself, his mouth was hanging open at the sight of the dwarf woman, and for once he could find no words to say.

"My name is Dolvona, of the Storm Ram Tribe." She said, "And I hear, Thane Kregan, that you are looking for what the Saderans call 'the Nomad Dwarves.' Is that right?"

She then smiled and shrugged.

"Well then, Thane Kregan, I guess you found me."

* * *

"There is a way through the woods, used by my people for centuries." Dolvana explained as she took out a map and set it in front of Kregan, "These secret paths have kept us hidden from our enemies, and have allowed us to operate in secret."

Cato looked over Kregan's shoulder and studied the nomad's map. It was of the forest, that much was certain, but there were red lines that connected with one another, and which almost seemed to flow like quicksilver. Clearly, this map was magical in nature.

"And you're trusting us with the knowledge of these paths?" Kregan asked.

"I am, though without me to guide you, they would be useless to non-dwarves."

"We are dwarfs." Kregan said, slightly defensively.

"That remains to be seen." Dolvana replied, "You're from another world, after all."

Kregan grunted, but said nothing; he was feeling a sense of what the Bretonnians called 'déjà vu' however.

Cato, on the other hand, was using all his willpower not to ask the nomad a host of questions; about her tribe, her people, herself. It was difficult, having to subdue his natural curiosity, but this was neither the time nor the place.

Not to mention the all too convenient timing of Dolvana. Cato was not a suspicious man by nature; but her arrival was too convenient to be ignored.

He would have to keep an eye on her, lest she lead their entire surviving company out of the immediate danger, only into a trap.

"The paths go deep within the woods, and are wide enough for two dwarves to pass through shoulder to shoulder." Dolvana explained, "They will lead us to my village; to safety. However, we would have to leave your war machines behind; there is simply no room for them."

"Then we give the enemy what he wants; what he killed over a thousand dwarfs to claim" Kregan noted, "To say nothing of the fact that we would also have to leave the bodies of our kinsmen behind. Engineer Greti!"

"Yes, my Thane?" Cato saw a dwarf wearing a pair of mechanical eyeglasses approach Kregan, "How may I serve?"

"We need to leave the cannons behind, that is the unfortunate truth of the matter."

"I gathered as much my Thane. Though I know you well enough to understand you will not simply leave them behind for our enemy to claim."

"You do know me. I want you and your crew to destroy the cannons; leave them beyond repair for the Saderan umgi."

"That… may take a while, to properly dismantle all of them." Greti explained, "The organ guns alone… we'll have to detonate them, along with the ammunition."

"Thane Kregan," Cato interjected, and all the dwarfs turned to the Elder Sage, "If I may make a suggestion."

"Speak Mage." Kregan said, "At this point, I am open to any and all suggestions."

"We need to destroy the cannons; we also need to cover our tracks, lest the Saderans track us and hunt us down."

"No Saderan manling can track our paths." Dolvana boasted.

"I'm sure they are a well-kept secret Miss, but all the same, I would rather not take any chances. Which brings me to my point; I may have a way to render the guns to be beyond repair, and to keep the Saderans from properly tracking us, though it will take a lot out of me.."

"You have my attention…" Kregan said. 

* * *

An hour later

"Keep your eyes and ears open!" a centurion said, and the legionaries obeyed, "This whole thing reeks of an ambush."

It had taken several hours, but the General had regrouped the legion, and had sent them back through the woods, and into the camp.

They came expecting another battle.

Instead, they found only corpses.

The entire camp was completely devoid of life; the only dwarves there were the ones slain in the prior battle, as well as the Saderan's own dead. There was no _living_ angry bearded demihumans to be found though.

As the cavalry ran a perimeter around the camp, and the dragons searched from the air, the legionaries did a sweep of the camp itself, looking for any still living dwarves, or for the invaluable cannons; the weapons that Crown Prince Zorzal had died trying to claim for Sadera.

"Sir!" a legionary shouted, "I think I found the guns!"

The man pointed his gladius towards the center of camp, and sure enough, behind dozens of crates, were the unmistakable shapes of cannons.

"Well, how do you like that?" the Centurion said as he walked towards them, "The demis left them behind for us. You!" he pointed towards a soldier, "Run back to camp and tell the general we have what we came here for. Double time it!"

"At once sir!"

As the legionary took off, the centurion turned back to the guns, admiring the craftsmanship, and gingerly setting his hand on the barrel of one huge cannon in particular.

A split second later, a glowing orange rune appeared on the metal, burning the color of flame.

"What in the-" the centurion began, but was cut off when a dozen other similar runes appeared on the other cannons, the wooden crates surrounding the cannons, and upon the bodies of several dead dwarves.

A heartbeat later, the runes exploded, and the cannons, as well as the gunpowder and ammunition stored in the wooden crates, were all engulfed in a massive inferno. The whole camp was consumed by the flames, killing hundreds of men and horses, and even erupting high enough into the sky to engulf several dragon riders in the blaze.

The whole camp was gone, destroyed by magic exploding runes. Through this immense destruction, courtesy of Cato's magic, half of the surviving legion was killed in an instant, and the dawi took some small measure of revenge. 

* * *

_Several Hours later_

"Pointless…" Aurelias, Zorzal's replacement, said as he and his surviving men walked through the blasted remains of the camp, "All this pointless… two and a half thousand men, dead, all because of these… these stunted freaks! So many dead, and nothing to show for it!"

"That's not entirely true General." Tyuule said as she walked behind him, followed closely by her own bodyguards, "Yes, we lost many-"

"An understatement if there ever was one Tyuule." The General interrupted, "I've known most of these men for years; so many campaigns, so many battles… so many families left behind, and we failed to achieve our primary objective; seizing the dwarven guns. To top it all off, Crown Prince Zorzal is dead! So please, tell me, how can this be anything except a total failure?"

"For starters, that fool Zorzal is dead; already a blessing from the gods. Secondly, you and the late Prince focus too much on the big prize, that you neglect to take into consideration the small victory."

Tyuule snapped her fingers, and several of her warriors stepped forward, carrying long bundles. With a nod from the former queen, they began to unwrap the bundles. Aurelias raised an eyebrow, but then gasped in shock when he saw what they were carrying.

The rabbits were holding the handheld guns used by the dwarves.

"Many of the dwarves were carrying these weapons," Tyuule explained, "I instructed my warriors to retrieve as many as they could from the fallen, as well as the black powder and round lead balls that the dwarves carried on their belts. They may not be the great cannons that the Emperor asked for, but I do believe they will be a start." 

* * *

_Nomad Forest Paths_

 _Three days later_

It was dark; darker than night, though Cato knew it to be the daytime hours. It was a testament to how thick the trees were in this part of the woods, that it was impossible to tell day from night.

For the past few days now, the nomad, Dolvana, had led them through the path, away from the Saderans, and towards the safety of her village. It was slow going. True to Dolvana's word, the path was too narrow for the artillery pieces the dawi had brought with them. Between the narrowness of the path, as well as carrying the wounded and what supplies they could take with them, Dolvana had said that they were lucky to be making the time that they were.

"How much longer until we get there?" Kregan asked their guide, "I fear that my wounded do not have much time left."

"Soon." Dolvana replied, "Do not fear Thane; my tribe is well versed in the medicinal arts. We will keep your people from dying.

The nomad was as mysterious as ever; she said she would answer questions about her tribe once they reached her village, but all the same, Cato found it hard to trust her. He had met few dwarves in his time, but they were never as tight lipped as her. Perhaps it was because they were going to her village? Perhaps it was because they were fleeing the Saderan legions?

In any case, Cato kept his mouth shut. Walking close behind Kregan and Dolvana, he trudged along the dirt path, always keeping a watchful eye on the woods, ready to use his magic to defend them should danger come. So far, his magic was not needed, thank the gods. Though it was necessary, casting that many explosive runes had taken a lot out of him. Thankfully, he was recovered enough to be useful in case danger struck.

The only light came from the tip of his staff, and he used it to illuminate the area around him, and he looked approvingly upon the sights. For a secret dwarf path, there was a surprising amount of natural beauty to be found. From the twisting roots of the trees, the bright green of the leaves, the thick bark of the trunks, the smoothness of the stone, the intricate carvings of old dwarves, to the soft glow of the torches-

Wait a minute.

Cato looked around, and he gasped sharply.

Where once they were walking down the narrow forest path, now the entire remaining dwarf throng was within some sort of huge stone corridor, wide enough for twenty dwarfs standing side by side. Smooth stone walls were covered with sculptures of dwarves, some dressed as warriors, and others in long flowing robes. Brass torches burned throughout the hall, illuminating everything. At the end of the hall was a large door

"What magecraft is this?" Kregan asked, on edge at the sudden change in scenery.

"The paths are old ones," Dolvana explained, "But as narrow as they are, they take us directly to where we need to go. Follow me."

Dolvana walked to the doors, and rapped her knuckles against them.

"It's me!" she shouted, "Brother, open up. I have dwarves in need of healing!"

The massive doors swung open, and revealed what was upon the other side.

It was a huge chamber, large enough to fit half of Italica. Within the chamber was a large town, constructed out of timber and tents. It was filled with dwarves, all dressed similarly to Dolvana; well-worn leathers, and rustic furs. Several dwarves rode atop giant rams, and carried spears made of oak.

Most remarkable of all, however, was a large crystal, suspended from the ceiling, which glowed with the light of the sun, illuminating the entire chamber, and making it seem as if it were daylight.

Most frightening of all, however, was on the other end of the chamber; it was a massive gate, taller than the tallest tower in Rondel, and each door was twice as wide. On the right door was an image of a dwarf in full armor, armed with an ornate bow and arrow. On the other door was a demon, whose body seemed to be made of solid gold.

All across the gate were glowing runes, in a language unknown to Cato, but he knew in his gut what they were meant for; to keep the gate closed, and to keep whatever was on the other side from getting out.

"Well dawi," Dolvana said, stretching out her arms as several of her people walked up behind her, "Welcome to my village; the home of the Storm Ram Tribe."


	7. Chapter 7

_The Duchy of L'Anguille, one month after the Chaos Moon event_

The moon was full, and its light shone upon the open-air shrine to the Lady, illuminating the oak table that sat in its center, as well as the four knights who sat around it.

Sir Robert Le Rouen, a young knight errant, wearing his family's heraldry, three red owls, upon his chest, dismounted his horse and slowly walked towards the shrine, trying to keep his breathing under control. He was going to be in august company; Lady help him if he embarrassed himself.

"You're not Earl Roger." One of the knights, Sir Fulk Le L'Anguille, a large mountain of a man, dressed in bull heraldry, stated when Robert approached the table.

"No Sir," Robert said, "I'm his son, Sir Robert, sent on his behalf. My father has taken ill in his old age, and is unable to attend this meeting, and since my eldest brother is questing for the Grail, I was sent in his stead."

"I'm sorry to hear of your father." Another knight, Sir Turalt Le Lieur, whose heraldry was a knight's helmet, flanked by purple swans, said, "He is a valued friend to us all. It is a pity that he could not come hear this day. Still, I bid you welcome to our brotherhood. Come, have a seat."

"I thank you Sir." Robert said as he gave a respectful nod to Turalt, before taking his seat at the table. No sooner had he sat down than Turalt began to address the assembled knights.

"Now that young Robert has arrived," Turalt began, "All that remains is for our final brother to arrive."

"Where is Jerome?" Fulk asked, "He's the one who called us here again, after all these years."

"Fashionably late no doubt, as usual." Another knight, Sir Goderic, said, "For a Knight of the Grail, I dare say that man would be late to his own funeral."

"Yes, only he would keep Morr waiting!" Sir Hubert, the last knight of their number, laughed, "When one takes his tardiness into account, it is amazing that the Lad ever appeared before him!"

Robert said nothing. How could such noble knights mock one that the Lady Herself blessed with the Grail? Even if he was late.

"Such unkind words from men I once called brother!"

All the knights turned their heads to the sound of the voice. Standing in the moonlight was a knight with a glowing grail emblazoned on his heraldry, with his great helm under his left arm. His face glowed with holy power, and one could instantly tell that this man was no mere mortal. Indeed, as a Grail Knight, a chivalrous individual who had drunk of the Grail, he was among the most valiant, and most famed knights in the land.

The image of holy knight was broken, however, by the jovial grin he wore as he approached the table, slammed his plumed helmet down on top of it, and let loose a boisterous laugh as he heartily slapped Hubert's shoulder.

"Oh, my brothers!" Sir Gerome, Knight of the Grail, all but shouted in happiness, "It has been too long! When was the last time we saw one another? Was it when we slew Warboss Gitshivver of the Grey Mountains, or when we threw back the Norscan Queen, Aslaugen?"

"They attacked the duchy at the same time brother." Turalt said as he embraced Jerome, "Almost twelve years ago."

"Twelve? Dear Lady, it has been too long since we have all been together." Jerome stated as he took his own seat, "Time goes by far too quickly for my liking."

Jerome then rested his gaze upon Robert, taking in the much younger knight.

"You're Roger's boy, aren't you?" he asked. Robert nodded.

"I'm Earl Roger's second born son, Sir Robert, sent in his place due to his illness, and his advancing age."

"Ah, poor Roger. He was always the eldest of us." Jerome said mournfully, "I welcome your blade to our table Sir Robert, but I must express my sadness that your lord father cannot join us."

"I understand, no offense is taken." Robert said, for what else could he say otherwise? It would be wrong to take offense at a Grail Knight after all.

"If you don't mind Jerome," Fulk started, "What is the purpose of this meeting? Our brotherhood has not had cause to band together in over a decade, not since the summer of the Greenskin and the Queen. Has some new monster or threat come to bring ruin to the Duchy?"

"Not exactly." Jerome explained, "Tell me, what do you all know of the Gate that lays within the Empire?"

That was an odd question to ask.

"It is magical in nature," Robert answered, "And it serves as a portal between the Old World, and a new world, called Falmart. Another empire, one that makes use of mutant slave soldiers, tried to invade, only for the Sigmarites to chase them back through the Gate."

"They say there's also a way to get the land of the High Elves through there." Goderic stated, "Much to the collective anger of the merchant _lords_ of Marienburg, who no doubt feel threatened that they may lose their monopoly on trade goods with the fae folk."

"There is more to it than that." Jerome said, "For the past few months, I have been having vivid dreams… dreams of the Gate, and a sense of foreboding. There is something on the other side of that Gate… something that could one day, threaten not just our Duchy, but the entirety of Bretonnia.

"It was not, however, until Winter's Eve, when the Chaos Moon was full, when I received clarity to my dream, no, my vision. I dreamt that I was walking through the fields of the Duchy. It was day, and the peasants were bringing in a bountiful harvest. Then, all of a sudden, the crops began to die, right before my eyes, and the peasants turned to ash. The sky changed from blue to blood red, the villages set aflame, and the great castles collapsed. To say that I was frightened by the death and decay around me would be an understatement. Then, emerging from the smoke, untouched by the devastation surrounding him, he came.

"The Green Knight."

It was then Robert heard the other knights hold their breath at the mention of the Green Knight. Robert himself felt goosebumps go down his spine. The Green Knight! Few figures were as popular in the Kingdom's folklore, or as dreaded to the forces of evil, as that being. The final challenge all Grail Knights must face, for the Green Knight to appear in the dreams of Sir Jerome… this must be of grave importance.

"He was seated upon his horse, and, looking at me with glowing eyes, drew the Dolores Blade, and pointed it at my chest, before he turned it towards the east, towards the Empire. Then, it was as if the land itself flew past us, though we ourselves stood still. Finally, we came to a stop before the Gate itself, with the Green Knight pointing the Dolores Blade at it. It was then that I knew what the Lady wished of me. Great evil dwells on the other side of the Gate, and it falls upon us, the knights of Bretonnia, to vanquish it."

"Why us though?" Goderic asked, "The Empire is already there."

"The Empire cares only for expanding their territory. They are blind to the true darkness that dwells there."

"What is this darkness Jerome?" Turalt inquired.

"I know not, only that it dwells beyond the Gate, and that even as we speak, it festers there, and soon, it will consume all that we hold dear. That is why I ask you, my brother knights, to join me in this quest. To slay this evil, before it has a chance to take root, and spread to our world. Will you join me?"

"We are always with you brother." Fulk said, "But an evil that you describe… surely it will take more than six of us; it would take an army, and to even pass through the Gate to begin with, we would need the permission of the Empire."

"Leave the army, and our passage, to me Fulk." Jerome assured, "I will go to Altdorf, and seek an audience with the Emperor. All I require is your word that you will join me."

"We are with you brother." Hugh said, and he drew his sword, "I swear on my sword, and before the Blessed Lady of the Lake, that I will follow you to hell itself."

The rest of the assembled knights all drew their swords, and swore the same thing.

All but one.

"Sir Robert," Jerome said, addressing the youngest knight there, "Though your father is a dear friend, I would extend my offer to you as well."

"Me?" Robert asked, "Sir, I am but a young man, barely a boy. I am not worthy of such an honor…" Robert then drew his sword as well, "Though I humbly accept it, in the name of Liege and Lady."

"Excellent. Then the Brotherhood of L'Anguille is whole once again. Wait for my word; until then, try and gather as many knights and men as you can, for I fear that our quest may become an Errantry War."

 _Nagarythe, The Shadowlands_

On the back of his horse, Vanon looked out over the horizon, and not for the first time that day, cursed the fog for obscuring his vision. The coming battle would be difficult enough; the fog was yet another trial.

"Captain." Prince Madir said curtly, the proud Caledorian riding over to Vanon, "Are your warriors ready?"

"Yes, my Prince." he replied, "The druchii will find not but death this day."

"Do not make promises you cannot keep Captain." Madir scolded, "Overconfidence leads to mistakes, and I will not be here to rescue you from them."

Then, without waiting for a reply, the Prince rode off back to the center of the army.

"Of course." Vanon returned his attention to the warriors under his command in the left flank. Harsh though his words were, Madir was not wrong. Should any part of the army break, their dark cousins would swarm the entire beach, and claim the Archway for themselves. The Witch King's sycophants occupying any part of Ulthuan is unacceptable, but the thought of those sadists being within striking distance of Tuka filled him with dread.

Vanon shook such thoughts from his head. He helped no one by focusing on what ifs and assuming the worst. All he could do was hold the line, and kill any druchii who dared to step out of the fog and upon the sands of Nagarythe.

* * *

"Now hold still, I've had a bit to drink and I want to make this as clean a cut as possible."

With a swing of his sword, an elf in ornate black armor beheaded a shackled human woman, who was being held in place by two bodyguards.

The elf sheathed his sword and reached over to a nearby table, grabbing a crystal goblet. He then held it up to the severed neck of the human, and caught as much of the flowing blood until it was filled to the brim.

"There, that will do." He said as he took the goblet away and walked back to the table. The elf then poured the blood into a pitcher, before adding a glass of red wine and a vial of black liquid.

"Lord Maugen-" an approaching Corsair began before the elf held up his hand to silence him.

"A moment please," Maugen said as he began to stir the liquid together with an ivory spoon, "I'm on the verge of a breakthrough."

First tapping the spoon against the rim of the pitcher and then setting it aside, Maugen then poured his concoction into the glass goblet, filling it halfway before taking a long sip.

He then wordlessly dumped the goblet's contents onto the deck before letting out a long-suffering sigh.

"Another failure. Arabyan blood is unsatisfactory when in combination with crimson grape wine and black lotus syrup. Back to the drawing board."

He snapped his fingers at the bodyguards, still holding the decapitated corpse of the unfortunate woman.

"Throw her overboard, she's useless. Now then, what is it?" Maugen asked as he turned to the Corsair.

"The Shades have reported back; the traitors have amassed an army upon the shore, putting themselves between us and the Archway."

"To be expected. It's what I would do in their shoes." Maugen admitted as he crossed his arms behind his back, "What of the first wave? Are they ready to engage in slaughter?"

"They are Lord. We've loaded them upon the landing craft, and the brutes are ready to spill blood. We only require your word."

"Most excellent. The word, my dear captain, is given!"

The captain snapped off a military salute before turning around and walking off. Maugen in turn placed both of his hands upon the railings, and gazed over his fleet. Two dozen ships of the line, and over a hundred landing craft filled to the brim with killers. His own ship, Ritual Killing, while far from a mighty black ark, still dwarfed the rest of the fleet, and with its many reaper bolt throwers, more than capable of killing anything that sailed.

It had one more weapons as well… one whose design was liberated from the mountain folk and improved upon. It would be that weapon, more than any other, that would win him the day, and the glory.

"Excited dear brother?" an elf woman asked as she joined Maugen on the rails. She was beyond beautiful, but it was a cruel beauty, typical amongst her kind. Dressed in gossamer thin black silks that barely covered anything, she gave no sign that the chill of the fog bothered her.

"Very much so Druella," Maugen replied, "Today is the day I claim the Witch King's prize for him. Whatever magic the archway posseses is wasted on our misguided cousins. I look forward to killing them all to the last."

"I am surprised you have enough energy for that." Druella said with a sultry smirk, "After last night I would have thought you would still be resting."

"Could not the same be asked of you, dear sister?"

"Oh, you are incapable of tiring me out Maugen."

"Ha! Such venom that drips from your tongue; if only I could harvest it and serve it to my enemies."

"Yes, such a pity. I suppose you'll have to make do with my spells."

"A consolation prize, but a worthy one at that. I thank you again for this fog. The false king's slaves, who have amassed upon the shoreline will not see us coming until it is too late!"

* * *

"There!" one of Vanon's officers shouted as he pointed a finger to the sea, "I see movement!"

Vanon could see it as well. Black shapes emerging from the fog; Druchii ships, carrying the Witch King's black hearted servants into battle.

"Archers, make ready!" Vanon shouted orders, "Load the bolt throwers! Loose on my orders! Today we stain the sand with druchii blood!"

One by one, the ships emerged from the fog, a hundred strong, the ships came aground. They were in the shape of a rectangle, with a tall wooden board in front. Then the front of the hundred ships was then lowered like a drawbridge, creating a ramp.

Wasting no time, the passengers disembarked, and charged towards the Asur army. However, they were not what Vanon was expecting. In this host, there were druchii, but they were few and far between. Monstrous shapes made up the bulk of the landing force, and Vanon recognized just what it was that their dark cousins were sending.

Orcs, goblins, gors, and humans ranging in race from the men of the Old World, to the tall men of the north. Each was armed with a weapon of poor make and subpar metal, and dressed in rags, along with a black collar around their necks.

"Greenskins." Vanon snarled, "Along with Beastmen and men. It seems they mean to tire us out with slave fodder, save their own numbers for last.

"It does not matter though." He explained to his officers, "Be they druchii or slave, they will die to our weapons all the same. Archers, bolt throwers; Loose! Kill them all!"

Obeying without hesitation, Vanon's men rained arrows and bolts upon the heads of the attackers, killing dozens at a time. For every one they killed however, a dozen more took his place, charging with ferocious roars and swinging weapons.

"Spears ready!" Vanon ordered, and the lines of spearmen closed ranks, ready to meet the oncoming wave of slave fodder.

When the first of the slaves arrived, they were skewered on Asur spearheads. The rest crashed against the shields, trying to force their way through.

"Hold the line!" Vanon ordered as he drew his sword, "Knights of the Silver Helm with me! We'll flank them and take them form behind!"

All across the beach similar scenes played out, with Asur soldiers held the line against a wave of the druchii's slave fodder. Meanwhile, the landers were returning to the druchii fleet, to pick up and then deliver the Witch King's true army to Nagarythe.

The Battle of the Archway had begun.

* * *

 _Alnus Province, High Elven Gate_

"There it is!" Tuka shouted as the Asur fort came into view. While far from being as large as Fort Griffon, the High Elves had constructed their own fortifications around their own gate. Two rings of stone walls, with two gatehouses being the only way in or out. Several guard towers and repeater bolt throwers provided additional protection.

"It is most impressive." Herr Fischer, Prince Erhardt's emissary, said as he rode his horse beside Tuka, "Not as large as our own however."

"That is because the Asur have no interest in conquest." Tuka explained, "Only in guarding the gate to their own lands."

Fischer only grunted, "They'll wish they had greater defenses once the undead are at their door."

Tuka grimaced, but said nothing. Ever since what the Outlanders called the Chaos moon appeared in the sky, a flowing river of reports and sightings of undead in the south came to Fort Griffon. The dark elf Yao had spoken true; vampires ruled in Elbe, and stood poised to take the entire Alnus region for their own.

Prince Erhardt had mustered the forces under his command; both state troops and hired mercenaries, while at the same time dispatching messengers to the other side of the gate, asking for reinforcements from the Emperor. At the same time, Princess Pina Co Lada returned to Sadera, to ask her own Emperor to spare battle-ready legions, for the undead made no difference between Saderan or Outlander.

"Halt!" a strong voice said in Eltharin, "State your purpose here!"

Tuka looked up and saw an elven spearman standing atop the wall, with several archers by his side, hands on bows.

"I am Tuka Luna Marceau," she shouted back in flawless Eltharin, "I am betrothed to Captain Vanon, Prince Madir's subordinate. I bring with me Herr Fischer, the ambassador of the Empire of Man! We have come to talk to Prince Madir regarding a curse of undeath."

The elf looked at one of his fellows, who then nodded.

"Welcome back Lady Tuka," The spearman said in Reikspiel, for Fischer's benefit, "and greetings to you as well noble ambassador. If only it were under more favorable conditions. I cannot open the gate for you, for your own safety if nothing else."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"The Druchii are attacking on the other side of the Archway," he explained, "Even as we speak, the battle is underway, with Prince Madir and his army holding them back."

"Blessed Sigmar!" Fischer exclaimed, "Dark Elves? Here?"

"Is Captain Vanon fighting in the battle?" Tuka asked, greatly concerned for his safety.

"He is."

Tuka was silent while she let the words sink in. Vanon told her much of the dark elves of his home world, and they could not be more different from Falmart's.

They took delight in all manner of cruelty, and it was said that it would be better to be killed than to be taken alive by such monsters.

And Vanon was fighting them…

"We must leave at once!" Fischer told Tuka, "If the dark elves break through, they could kill us if we stay!"

"You leave then." Tuka said as she moved her horse forward, "I intend to stay.

"Let me inside!" she called out to the spearmen, "If the druchii are there, then I wish to fight with Prince Madir's army."

The two elves upon the wall looked to one another, before the spearman nodded.

"If you insist Lady Tuka. Open the gate!"

As the gate began to open, Tuka urged her horse forward, leaving the humans behind. Ahead of her, she saw the Archway, smaller than the Alnus Gate, but no less impressive, and on the other side of it, an entire army of murderous dark elves.

"For the sake of the Cadai prepare yourself." The elf atop the wall called down to her, "The druchii live to cause suffering, and they will show no mercy. You must show none in return if you expect to survive."

Tuka merely nodded, before pulling her bow from her back, notching an arrow to the string, and charging her horse through the magical barrier.

* * *

Few things are as frightening as fighting the Dark Elves of Naggaroth; fighting their slave monsters, however, was close.

Vanon plunged his sword deep into the chest of a Greenskin, withdrew it, and sliced through the cranium of a frog headed mutant, and the corrupted beast collapsed to the ground.

So far, the battle was going well. The druchii's slave soldiers were fearsome, but ultimately no match for proper Asur discipline. They were relentless though, and the landers dropped off hundreds at a time. If he was not careful, Vanon would find his position overrun before his people's dark cousins would even set a foot on the beach.

"Fight on warriors of Ulthuan!" Vanon shouted to his men, "Give them not an inch, and make them pay for their insolence in blood!"

He urged his horse forward, other silver helms and reavers riding close behind him with swords raised, and lances leveled towards the hearts of the enemy. With the spearmen as the anvil and themselves as the hammer, Vanon's force smashed into the druchii's slave army, slaughtering them by the hundreds with each passing minute. Their dark kin cared not for their fodder, hence why they sent them out with poor weapons and no armor. As a result, they were easily defeated, though no one expected them to overcome the disciplined ranks of the Asur.

What they were expected to do, however, was to wear down the defenders, tire them out for the main force of the druchii. Every soul upon that beach knew this. Which was why it was of great importance for Vanon to finish off the slaves quickly, lest they consume too much of his force's energy; energy they would need against their dark kin.

As Vanon cut down another slave, this time a crazed human, he felt the ground shake. He looked up, and saw to his horror the approach of several monsters. Trolls, large monsters that were as powerful as they were stupid, and a single giant, armed with a club the size of a tree trunk. Each beast was tearing their way through the Asur defenders, with the giant sending bodies flying with every swing of it's great club.

"Archers!" Vanon shouted, "Aim for their eyes! Blind those monsters!"

The archers loosed their arrows, but to no avail. The giant, showing unusual intelligence for its dimwitted species, covered it's face with its huge hand, shielding its eyes from the Asur shafts. The trolls merely ignored the arrows, their healing abilities mending their wounds faster than the elves could inflict them, and continued on into the ranks of the defenders.

"Set your arrows alight!" Vanon heard someone say. He turned his head and saw Prince Madir, racing down the field on his warhorse, "Trolls hate fire, so burn the dumb brutes! Spearmen, hold the trolls at bay so that the archers can oil their arrows!"

Efficiently, Vanon's flank followed the orders of their commander; the spearmen forming ranks and stabbing at the trolls' faces, holding them at bay for as long as they could, and the archers quickly wrapping their arrowheads with oil soaked cloth, before setting them alight with flint and the steel of their knives.

The archers then fired their arrows at will, with most of the flaming projectiles striking true, wounding them, and causing them to falter in their advance. Not the giant though; the giant continued making great strides, swinging its club and killing scores of Vanon's men with each swing.

Knowing what he had to do, Vanon galloped forward, sword raised, and darted in-between the giant's legs, slashing at the left ankle with his sword.

The giant bellowed, but Vanon doubted that he had actually accomplished to hurt the damn thing. What he did accomplish was drawing its attention away from his people and towards him.

The giant turned and glared at Vanon, before raising its club and brought it down on him. Only Vanon's expert horsemanship allowed him to move out of the way in time. Turning his horse, he again charged close to the giant, lashing out with the blade to cut into the monster's tendon, severing the large muscles and biting into the bone.

Howling in pain and rage, the giant dropped to one knee. Vanon turned again and began to charge back, when suddenly, in a fit of uncharacteristic cunning, the giant grabbed one of the druchii's slave soldiers, a northman, and threw it at Vanon. The hapless human landed in front of Vanon's horse, who crashed into the unorthodox projectile, sending both horse and rider crashing to the ground. How he survived was due to half skill, thanks to rolling with the fall, and sheer luck that the horse didn't land on him and break his neck.

His head spinning, Vanon stood up as quickly as he could, and through blurry vision, he saw the giant crawling towards in his direction, with a colossal hand outstretched to grasp him. Having lost his sword in the fall, Vanon scanned the battleground as best he could for a weapon of any kind, eventually settling on the spear of a fallen Asur. Quickly grabbing the weapon, he attempted to adopt a martial pose to meet the oncoming giant; easier said than done, considering his head was still ringing. He had no time to rest however, as the giant was still coming. Uttering a quick oath, he darted forward, spear leveled at the hand.

It proved unnecessary. An arrow shaft hissed over Vanon's head and struck the giant's right eye. Completely forgetting Vanon, the giant raised both hands to its head, grasping its wounded eye, crying out in agony, and then falling to the earth, curling up in a fetal position.

Vanon wasted no time and immediately charged the giant, deftly running up to the giant's face, and stabbing it in its other eye. Using all the strength he could muster from his battered body, he drove the wooden shaft deep into the giant's head, impaling its brain and killing it instantly.

Letting go of the shaft, Vanon took a few steps back, panting loudly, and then turned around, seeing a surprising sight with his rapidly improving vision.

"Tuka?" he asked with wide eyes.

"Vanon!" his lover called out to him as she rode her horse over, bow clutched in one hand, a sword in the other, "Thanks the gods you're alright! I was afraid you'd be crushed by that giant!"

"You and me both." He replied, "What are you doing here?"

"It is a long story that can wait." She stated, handing him the sword she carried, "Arm yourself; the demihumans are broken, but your dark elves are now landing on the beach."

Vanon accepted the sword and ran around the giant's body with the intent to look upon the beach. When it came within sight, he found that Tuka spoke true. With their fodder spent, the Witch King's servants now came upon the beach in force; ranks of black armored warriors, fearsome monsters such as hydras, harpies, and medusae, the infamous and insane Witch Elves, as well as the infamous Cold One Knights.

"Well then," Vanon stated, "I'm going to need another horse."

He sprinted over to Tuka and leaped onto the saddle behind her.

"Get us back to our lines, and quickly! I have another horse there."

Tuka nodded and sped her horse forwards; there was no time to waste, as the druchii were coming closer and closer.

Within a minute, the two of them made it back to the rest of the Asur, and Vanon swiftly dismounted.

"Damn fool thing you did Captain." Madir stated as he rode over to them, his sword and armor covered with the blood of their enemies, "Losing your horse and having to be saved by your bedmate. Be quick with claiming your replacement steed. The Witch King's bootlickers come to die on our swords." Without waiting for a reply, Madir rode off again, to tend to the other flanks of his army, Tuka glaring daggers into the back of his head.

One of the army's pages brought Vanon a second horse and a spare lance. Vanon graciously accepted both, quickly mounting and rallying his surviving knights.

"Reavers!" he shouted, "You keep our flanks secured! Knights of the Silver Helm, you're with me! We're going to kill those motherless bastards on the cold ones before they have a chance to feast on Asur flesh!

"For Ulthuan!"

As his warriors repeated the chant, Tuka approached Vanon.

"Where do you want me?" she asked.

"Join the reavers in protecting our flanks." Vanon answered, "Kill plenty of druchii."

"I will." She nodded, "Stay safe Vanon."

"You as well Tuka."

Without another word, the two lovers parted, Tuka joining the wild youths of Ellyrion, and Vanon leading his knights into the fray.

The Silver Helms went forth, Vanon at their head, making their way towards the charging cold ones. Even from this distance, Vanon could see the snarling jaws of his dark kin's mounts, filled with too many teeth, and eager to rip him and his entire force of knights to shreds, with the distance between them only growing closer.

The two sides crashed into one another; Silver Helms skewering cold ones and riders alike on their lances, cold ones leaping into the air and pouncing on knights, individual warriors trading blows with their weapons. It was a chaotic, bloody mess.

Vanon had impaled both rider and mount on his lance before it broke, then resorting to drawing the sword Tuka gave him to fend off a flurry of attacks from a foe, whose armor and more elaborate armor marked him as the leader, wielding a kheitain, the traditional spear of the cold one knights.

"It has been centuries since I last kill your kind, scum!" Vanon's foe said, "I am Delthes Fellstalker, and after I slay you, I will hang your skulls from my banner!"

"You will have to slay me first." Vanon replied, parrying a thrust from the kheitain with Tuka's sword.

"A task that I will enjoy you wretch!"

The two danced a dance of war, exchanging slashes and thrusts, parrying killing blows, circling each other, looking for an opening.

Finally, an opening came; Delthes struck forward with his kheitain, stabbing towards Vanon's left side. Quickly shifting his position, the spear missed, grazing his armor, but Vanon quickly used his left arm to clamp down on the spear, trapping it between his arm and torso. Delthes tried to tug his kheitain free; his last mistake. If he had dropped it, he might have lived.

Vanon stabbed the tip of his sword into Delthes' neck, between his helmet and armor, killing the druchii instantly before quickly withdrawing it.

With no time to celebrate however, Vanon returned his attention to the other cold one knights. They were stronger than his Silver Helms, and Vanon feared that the enemy might break his men's resolve.

It was then that salvation came for the young elves, In the form of Prince Madir. Charging across the beach with his own mounted bodyguard, the Dragon Prince crashed into the cold one knights, and it seemed that with each swing of his sword, Madir slew an opponent, such was his skill in the arts of war. The Prince, upon reaching Vanon, even slew the dead Delthes' cold one before it had a chance to leap upon the distracted silver helm.

In that instant, Vanon saw none of Madir's usual caustic personality, and was reminded of an old saying; Only in the heat of battle will a Dragon Prince's true character emerge. Haughtiness gives way to determination, and arrogance to courage. Gone is the aloof warrior that shuns the company of all but his own kind, replaced instead with a noble soul who would die to save even one innocent.

It was an awe-inspiring sight.

"My Prince, thank you for your timely arrival." Vanon said as he returned to fighting.

"How many times must I say it; Keep your focus Captain!" Madir snapped as he killed another druchii.

"You will never need say it again." Vanon replied as he stabbed another enemy.

"Good. Victory will soon be ours Captain, so might I suggest we withdraw from this engagement."

"Victory?" Vanon asked, "The druchii army is still fresh My Prince; how can you be certain?"

Madir smiled at Vanon, a disturbing sight, before pointing his sword into the air.

"Look there." He stated, and Vanon followed the direction of the blade, and for the second time that day, his eyes widened.

It was something out of the epics of old. A dragon, flying in the sky. No, more than that, it was a dragon ridden into battle by one of Ulthuan's most famed heroes.

"Imrik…" Vanon whispered.

Imrik, Prince of Caledor, one of the last of the line of Caledor Dragontamer, and Caledor the Conqueror, had come, riding one of the remaining dragons of his homeland. In the air behind him followed other flying creatures. A trio of great eagles, noble birds who were longtime allies of the Asur, and creature of red flame, a phoenix, ridden by a single elf in ornate armor and wielding a halberd.

Eagles and a member of the Phoenix Guard born on that order's namesake, led by Prince Imrik himself? The druchii were never prepared for this.

Imrik's dragon breathed fire upon the dark elves' warbeasts, burning both them and beastmasters alike. The eagles swooped down and picked up individual warriors in their claws before climbing to great heights and dropping them to their deaths. Meanwhile, the Phoenix Guard and his mount flew close to the earth, leaving a trail of fire behind them that burned their dark kin to cinders.

Vanon fought with renewed energy. In the presence of such awe-inspiring sights, how could he do any less?

* * *

"This is a disaster!" Lord Maugen cried out as he looked over the battle, "Our slaves are all dead, to be expected, but now our proper soldiers are being slaughtered by that dragon!"

"Our master will not be please at this failure." Druella commented with a smirk, "You know how he rewards failure dear brother. Unless you find a way to turn this around, it'll be your head on a pike, and I will have to find a new bedpartner."

"Quiet!" Maugen raged, "If I fail, then your pretty head will be next on the block. Be useful for once this day, and use your magic to strike the dragon down!"

"Hmm…" Druella pressed a single finger to her red lips, "Well, I have a spell that might do the trick… and slaying a dragon will be quite a feat!"

She took a few steps back, and began chanting, gathering the winds of magic to her, channeling it into Dhar, commonly known dark magic. She was beginning to cast a spell that would strike down the dragon.

Then an arrow went through the back of her skull, killing her instantly, and causing the magic to blow her body to bloody chunks.

"What, how!" Maugen shouted, covered in the gore that used to be his sister, turning around, before catching sight of the assassin. It was then that the chills began going down his spine.

"Anticlimactic, I know." The elf, a Shadow Warrior, said, lowering his bow, surrounded by Maugen's dead guards "But I could afford to give that harlot a chance to harm the Caledorian. Now, all that remains is you."

"How did you get onboard scum!" Maugen asked as he drew his sword, and the stranger did the same, "State your name so that I may carve it into your flesh after I kill you!"

"I am your death druchii." Came the reply, "But you may know me as the Shadow King."

Maugen froze; the Shadow King? Alith Anar himself?! The most dreaded and determined slayer of druchii in all history? He was on his ship? How?!

Maugen hesitated; that was all Alith Anar needed.

The Shadow King darted forward, and in a single stroke, separated the dark elf's head from his shoulders. No sooner had the severed head hit the deck than a squad of dark elf warriors arrived, led by the ship's captain.

"There's the intruder! Kill him!"

The Shadow King sheathed his sword and quickly drew his bow and dispatched several spearmen, backing up towards the railing as he did so, eventually hitting it.

"Nowhere to run!" a spearman said as he advanced.

Alith Anar said nothing, but instead leapt onto the railing in a single jump, and then jumped off the side of the ship.

The spearmen rushed forward, only to see a great eagle flew down from the heavens, and snatch Alith Anar in midair with its large talons.

The captain cursed under his breath, and scanned the beach. Their forces, weakened by the aerial assault of the dragon, were being slaughtered by the Asur. Their fodder was dead to the last inferior being, their army splintering, and their commander lay dead. Now was not the time to foolishly throw away their lives. Now was the time to live to fight another day.

"Signal the rest of the fleet." The captain ordered, "We're leaving. With luck, the Witch King will only slay a handful of us."

* * *

 _Caledorian Camp, Nagarythe_

"I thank you for your timely arrival Prince Imrik." Madir said as he and his officers stood in the command tent of Caledor's ruler, "Without your aid, many of my soldiers may have died."

"You are most welcome." Imrik replied from his chair, "Allowing the dark ones to set foot upon Ulthuan sat ill with me, so when I received your missive, I came as soon as I was able. I am glad I arrived in time to prevent the deaths of our people, as well as claiming to glory of driving back their entire force."

Vanon kept quiet as Madir and Imrik exchanged compliments. As the two proud Caledorians spoke, he scanned the room, taking in the occupants. Besides Imrik and Madir's officers, there were several other elves among them.

Alith Anar, the Shadow King, ruler of Nagarythe, and the most relentless killer of dark elves that the world had ever known. He stood in a corner, silent and grim, flanked by his shadow warriors, silently watching.

Standing close to Imrik was, judging from both his great axe the white pelt draped over his shoulders, a White Lion of Chrace; a member of the Phoenix King's bodyguards. He had a boisterous, almost wild look to him, much like the great beasts his order was named after. He was accompanied by a handful of his fellow warriors, though judging by the ornateness of his armor and his axe, Vanon judged him to be the leader.

Finally, and arguably most impressively of all, was the elf in gold armor, and winged helmet, armed with an ornate halberd. Vanon knew at once that this was the Phoenix Guard, one of the silent sentinels of Asuryan. Like all his brothers, this guardsman had taken a holy vow of silence, and none on this earth were capable of making him break it.

Between his presence and that of the White Lion, there was no clearer proof that the eyes of the Phoenix King were on them.

"There is one matter that I am curious about," Imrik began, "And that is the presence of the Falmart Elf."

All eyes in the tent turned to look at Tuka, who was standing beside Vanon. Already a stranger in a strange land, the added pressure of so many highborn elves on her served to make Tuka more nervous.

"I apologize Prince Imrik," Madir said, "I had not thought that Captain Vanon would be so foolish as to allow a foreigner into your command tent. I'll have her removed at once."

"That will not be necessary." Imrik replied, before raising his right hand and making a 'come here' gesture "Step forward please."

Tuka did as she was bidden, trying desperately not to let the stern eyes get to her.

"I hear tell from the soldiers that you slew twenty-one druchii this day with the bow." Imrik said, "As well as blinding a giant. Is this true?"

"I-it is." She answered.

"I see. Twenty-one…. Well done."

Tuka blinked. Was that a compliment? Did a Caledorian just compliment her?

"I-thank you Prince Imrik."

"I get a sense, however, that killing the invaders was not the reason you came here though. Please, tell me your purpose in returning to Ulthuan."

"As you wish Prince Imrik." Tuka said, before pausing to clear her throat.

"It is about my homeland, the continent of Falmart. Since the appearance in the sky of what you call the Chaos Moon, an army of the undead has risen in the south."

Shocked gasps filled the tent.

"Undead you say?" Madir asked, "So, such a scourge exists in your world as well eh?"

"It is not of my world," Tuka replied, "But of yours. Eyewitness reports claim to have seen what people on this side of the Gate refer to as a vampire; a demon that drinks the blood of the living."

"A vampire you say?" Imrik asked, "That... is disturbing news. IS it a single vampire, or more than one?"

"Prince Erhardt does not know how many," Tuka admitted, "But more than one. Their leaders are in Elbe, to the south of your Gate. According to the Empire's mages, they use the power of the Chaos Moon as fuel to power a massive spell, which raised the dead all over the country. The vampires seek to control the entire Alnus region, and have already invaded their neighboring kingdoms. Refugees come north in their thousands, and bring tales of unholy monsters, and their undead armies, which number in the tens of thousands, if not hundreds. We are told that for each town and castle the undead besiege, a choice is offered; surrender, and serve them in life, or die and slave for them in death.

"According to the refugees, these monsters go by the name Von Carstein."

Imrik shared a concerned look with Madir. Even in grand Ulthuan, they had heard of the power of the Von Carstein bloodline.

"I came here with Prince Erhardt's ambassador, Herr Fischer," Tuka continued, "Ask the help of the Asur in combatting this threat. For if the Empire and the other realms of Alnus are overrun, you will be next. Would you allow the undead to claim the Archway, and be allowed access to your home?"

"No, we will not." Madir stated. Once more, Tuka was surprised. Now Madir was agreeing with her?

"The vampires threaten us as much as the rest of the younger races. I for one will not stand here and allow such filthy creatures even the most remote chance of threatening sacred Ulthuan. But my post is here, defending against the druchii."

Madir turned to Vanon and placed his hand on the Silver Helm's shoulder.

"Captain Vanon, I hereby charge you with returning to Falmart. You will take a force with you, and you will assist the younger races in their battle against the undead. Failure means the deaths of our people; die before that happens."

"Of course, My Prince." Vanon said, snapping off a military salute.

"Good." Madir replied, "We'll discuss which forces will be going with you in the morning. It cannot be too many; I still require a large enough army to dissuade the druchii."

"Ha!" the White Lion barked out a laugh, "After the bloody nose we gave them, the dark ones won't be back for months. More than enough time to go to this Falmart, and relieve these vampires of their heads."

The Lion banged his axe against his armor, producing a clang.

"Captain Vanon, I am called Halros. Mind if my brothers and I join you?"

"I would be honored noble Halros."

A tapping sound drew everyone's eyes to the corner of the tent. It was the Phoenix Guard, tapping the base of his halberd upon the ground.

"Ah yes, where are my manners." Halros began, "The noble Phoenix Guard is named Fedrac Flamewatcher. Not very talkative, but handy with that weapon of his."

Fedrac stepped forward, and stood in front of Vanon, clasping a gauntlet to his chest.

"I don't understand." Vanon said, "Do you… wish to join us?"

A single nod.

"You do me great honor."

Tuka could not help but smile. She had succeeded in her mission, secured Asur reinforcements, gained powerful allies, and what was more, Vanon would return with her. For the first time in months, things were looking up!

* * *

 _Sadera, Imperial Capital_

Pina walked down the halls of the palace with great haste. There was little time to lose after all, what with the threat of the undead growing every single day. She had not even bothered to change out of her armor and into a dress, as would be customary when meeting with the Emperor.

There was a time and a place for ceremony, however, and this was neither. She had to make her father see that unless they dealt with them now, the undead would become a threat to them in the future. Even now, the thought of countless shambling corpses walking the land chilled her to the soul.

"I am here to see the Emperor!" she said to the Praetorians outside her father's private audience chamber, "It is a matter of security to Sadera!"

The Praetorians exchanged a glance, but said nothing, opening the door for her, and she quickly stepped inside.

"Father, we must-" she began before stopping. Her father was already with someone else.

While her father, Molt Sol Augustus sat upon the throne, an old man in tattered robes stood next to him, clutching a wooden staff, with eyes as white as the raven upon his shoulder.

"Oh, do not let me stop you Your Highness," the old man said, exuding a demeanor that was almost grandfatherly, "By all means, say what you have come to say."


	8. Chapter 8

_Imperial Palace, Sadera_

"Your Imperial Majesty," Pina began, shifting her attention away from the old man standing next to her father, "I come to ask for aid- "

"Why are you here Pina?" Molt asked, "You were supposed to make the Outlanders agree to the treaty, and to stay with them as my ambassador. Yet here you are; no treaty signed, asking for favors. In these troubled times, I find myself short on patience, so this abandonment of your mission had better be for important reasons."

"It is your Majesty. Th living dead are on the march in Elbe and her neighbors. Towns and cities fall before their numbers. Refugees flee north into Alnus, and are followed by bands of the undead."

"I am well aware of the undead issue, and of the refugee crisis. Get to your point Pina."

"Of course; the Outlander army is strong, but they are outnumbered ten to one. Unless something is done, and quickly, the Outlanders will be slaughtered to the last."

"And I should be concerned why?" Molt asked.

Pina blinked in surprise, "Because then the undead will be able to travel to the rest of Falmart, spreading their corruption everywhere they go!"

"Our legions are strong." Molt said, "And they are numerous. Why shouldn't we let the undead deal with the Outlanders for us? After they've finished blooding each other, we can retake Holy Alnus without the need for waiting. And if the Outlanders are victorious, they will be severely weakened, and ill prepared for our assault."

"Father please!" Pina shouted, "If we let the Outlanders die, then their bodies will just become more fodder for the undead, and their weapons will be in the hands of these unnatural beings, rather than the living. The short-term benefits from letting the Outlanders die do not outweigh the risks from letting the undead succeed!"

"Then, what would you have me do?"

"Send several legions to help the Outlanders in battling-"

"Fight alongside them?!" Molt snapped as he stood up, "Those invaders? Waste good Saderan blood to save those barbarians? Who are you to demand such things of your Emperor? You forget yourself girl!"

Pina dropped to her knees and bowed her head; her father rarely lost his temper, but when he did, heads would roll, and even her favored status would not protect her if Molt was truly enraged.

"My Emperor," the old man said, drawing Molts attention away from her, "If I may be allowed to speak?"

"Speak then." Molt said almost dismissively, sitting back down upon his throne.

"Princess Pina is right." He said, much to her shock, "Better to deal with the undead now then later, before they have a chance to overrun the rest of Falmart. If that means helping the Sigmarites, then that is but a necessary evil… but it could also be an opportunity."

Molt raised an eyebrow at that.

"Think of it this way my Emperor; your current plan is lure the Sigmarites into your trap; what better bait then to make them think us allies? Help them to destroy the undead, and not only will you be doing away with a major threat to your power, but you will also earn the trust of Prince Erhardt… and make his masters all the more likely to accept the deal you offered."

Molt cupped his chin with his hand, and began to stroke his beard in a contemplative fashion.

"There is logic in what you say." He said, "This will be the incentive for them to accept our deal… the bait for our trap. Yes… yes, I like that.

"Very well Pina," Molt said, "I will send you back to the barbarians with three legions; the XVII, XVIII, and the XIX. I am placing them under your command."

Pina blinked. Did she hear him correctly? Was he actually giving her a proper military command?

"My command? Your Majesty, I am most honored by the trust you've placed in me."

"Do not thank me yet; this comes with a condition."

"Whatever it is, I am willing to meet it."

"We are continuing with the original plan of luring the Outlanders into a trap. Like with a fish, we set the bait, and our prey bites it, not seeing the hook until it is too late. For our trap, however, I intend there to be multiple barbs on my hook. You shall be one of those barbs. You will set aside your notions of honor and chivalry, and do what must be done for the sake of Sadera. Do you understand?"

"I… what will I have to do?"

"That is not relevant for the time being. All I need of you is your solemn oath that you will obey me in this."

She didn't know what to say. Of course, she would do anything for her motherland… but it seemed that whatever it was that her father wished for her to do would violate both her morals, and her honor.

If that was the price she would have to pay… then she would gladly pay it. For Sadera.

"I understand Your Majesty, and I will undertake any mission you ask of me."

Molt smiled.

"Good. I will disclose to you your role in due time. For now, take command of your legions, and deal with the undead. You are dismissed."

Pina bowed again and left, leaving her father and his advisor behind.

"I'm surprised you backed her plan." Molt said as the door shut behind Pina.

"It is the most prudent course of action." Came the reply, "If we allow Von Carstein to run rampant around Falmart, then he will undo everything your people have spent centuries building."

"It seems that everything is already coming undone." Molt admitted as he stood and walked over to the table in the center of the room, "The Outlanders hold Holy Alnus Hill, these High Elves possess another gate somewhere in Alnus province, that green moon appeared in the sky and created a host of terrors within my city, feral demihumans now stalk the forests, and Zorzal got himself killed, forcing me to spend men and resources in avenging his foolish death."

"You do not seem terribly distraught over the loss of your eldest son."

"He was an idiot; but he was my heir. His death makes us seem weak. I am obligated to avenge his death; but it seems that those dwarves have disappeared off the face of the earth."

"If I may be so bold My Emperor," the Advisor began, "If it is merely about saving face… then it does not necessarily need to be dwarves. Any convenient scapegoat will do."

"Yes, I had thought of that." Molt admitted, "But whom will serve our purpose?"

"I have noticed that a great many demihumans patrol the streets of Sadera. Pick a few from the faceless masses, and charge them with the crime. Your house will save face, as well as time and effort."

"Ha!" Molt laughed, "I knew you would be invaluable in the days to come. Yes, I shall do just that."

"Excellent." The Advisor began, "Now then, let us discuss new matters, in regards to the fire weapons your legionaries recovered from the dwarfs. Even with the finest engineering minds in Sadera, it will take years to reverse engineer the weapons, and perhaps even longer to learn how to produce the black powder needed to fire them."

"I have patience."

"No doubt you do, but what if I told you that I can halve the time it would take from now to mass production?"

"… I say it sounds too good to be true, but if I've learned anything from spending time with you, it is that you can make such impossible things happen. How can you halve the time?"

"Oh, I know an unmatched forgemaster. He is from my world, and knows the inner workings of the firearms all too well."

"He is not a dwarf, is he? I do not with for the help of my son's killers."

"Well… not exactly. His kind has forged pacts with greater powers, leading to unparalleled mastery of the forge. Allow me to bring him here, and I assure you that entire legions will be armed with firearms."

* * *

 _Fort Griffon, Alnus Hill_

"Franz Abelard, Schmidt Krauten, and Klaus Ingel, you have been charged for the rape and murder of Gloria Fla Krighten. You have been found guilty, and will be hung from the neck till death. May Morr have mercy on your souls."

Erhardt was on his horse as he said those words, staring long and hard at the men he had just sentenced. They were Reikland Halberdiers, men who he had fought alongside against first the Saderan invasion, the Siege of Alnus, and then the Battle of Italica. Supposed loyal and brave sons of the Empire.

They were also rapists and murderers. Two weeks ago, they had assaulted a fox demihuman girl, a refugee from Elbe, in front of witnesses no less, before slitting her throat. The demihuman population in the refugee camp rose up in outrage, and demanded justice. Erhardt had to crush more than one riot by sending in armored knights. Such confrontations ended in blood.

Some of his councilors wanted him to crack down on the demihumans before they had a chance to riot. After all, they were not citizens of Sigmar's Empire, so technically, the men had committed no crime.

Others had cautioned him against punishing the criminals; if would lower the already shaky morale of the army if they saw their comrades hanging like common criminals.

Other councilors were in favor of hanging them, to appease the ever-growing demihuman population of refugees.

There had been long hours filled with harsh words before a decision had been reached. The men would die.

Therefore, gallows were constructed in the middle of the fort, and Erhardt gathered elements from every regiment under his command to witness the execution, and to set an example; rape would not be tolerated.

"If you have any final words to say, speak them now." Erhardt said as he looked the men in the eyes.

Abelard was muttering prayers to Morr under his breath. Ingel was crying. Krauten, on the other hand, looked defiant.

"She was just a damn mutant." He said, spitting in Erhardt's direction, "We're being condemned for this? She wasn't even human! Damn you! We're good men of Reikland! Khaine take your soul, you foppish bastard!"

"Noted." Erhardt replied, before nodding at the executioner.

The man pulled the lever, and the platform underneath the men's feet gave way. Their necks broke instantly. Whomever tied their nooses did an excellent job.

"Let this be known!" Erhardt shouted, not only to the soldiers, but also to the assembled native Falmarters, "That every soul who lives in Alnus is a subject of the Empire of Man, and protected under Empire law! Rape and murder of any of these peoples, if they be human or otherwise, will be punished accordingly! No one, from Falmarter, to a son of Reikland, is exempt from the law!"

With that, Erhardt turned his horse around and rode back to Fort Griffon, followed closely behind by the Reiksguard.

* * *

"This will not be the end of it." Siegfried said as Erhardt leaned back in his chair, "Executing a few rapists isn't going to change the fact the fact that we're sitting on a powder keg. Between more refugees showing up every day, and our dwindling food supplies, we might as well open the gates and let the undead in!"

"You think I don't know that?" Erhardt snapped, "I'm only too aware of the situation Siegfried! We don't have enough men to fight the undead, we don't have enough food, we have too many refugees, and we are running out of money to pay for everything! We are slowly losing control of every gain we've made here! We are at the weakest that we've ever been, and don't think for one moment that Sadera doesn't know it!"

Erhardt was putting it mildly; he almost twenty thousand men in his army, but by all reports, the undead forces numbered in the hundreds of thousands, and were growing each day. Refugees were pouring in from the south, and like in the early days of his reign as Margrave, in exchange for their oaths of loyalty, Erhardt extended his protection to them. Unlike before, this offer now extended to demihumans as well.

That decision was not popular. Empire men resented having to share living space with 'mutants,' even with the comelier ones, and violence was mounting throughout the steadily growing camp. More than once Erhardt had been forced to send armored knights to quell riots, leaving bodies in their wake. Harsh measures were required in such times.

To make matters worse, the undead were marching north, chasing the fleeing refugees. In response, Erhardt had dispatched Berhardt and his Grudgebringers and Voland's Venators to stall their advance. Sending Berhardt made sense; his triumph over the Dread King made him the obvious choice to battle the undead, Voland and his pack of false knights may be sociopathic, but they were effective. Plus, sending the Venators south put miles in between Erhardt and them.

Erhardt sighed as he rubbed his temples.

"Is there any good news this day?"

"As a matter of fact…" Siegfried began. He now had the Prince's attention.

"Do not keep me in suspense here."

"We've received a message from Princess Pina. She comes to us with three full legions; fifteen thousand men."

"That's a start." Erhardt sighed, "But we're still outnumbered. Has my own request to the Emperor been granted?"

"He is sending us funds and food, but no, state troops my Prince." Siegfried said, "According to his missive, no regiments can be spared due to a large Waaagh! forming in Averland, led by some Warboss named Ironjaw or something equally ridiculous. Grand Duke Marius has requested your father's aid, and he marches for Averland even now."

"Orcs!" Erhardt shouted, "We're going to be overrun by the undead in a few months, and he's worried about orcs?! Has he forgotten that if the undead take this hill, they'll have a backdoor into the heart of Reikland itself?!"

"I doubt that the Emperor Karl Franz has forgotten that fact." Siegfried said, "He has not abandoned us; in the same missive, he has informed us that reinforcements are on their way. It is just not state troops he's sending our way."

"What then? More mercenaries?"

"Better." Siegfried replied with a smile, "Bretonnian knights."

Erhardt blinked, "I'm sorry, could you repeat that? He's sending us Bretonnians? How in the name of the gods did he manage that?"

"Actually, they came to him. Apparently, their Lady told them that evil was afoot here in Falmart, and that they needed to come and vanquish it. The Emperor granted them access to the Gate, in return that they join your army and follow your orders. One hundred knights and three thousand of their conscript soldiers. Not an insignificant force."

"Well, whatever the case, I take every sword and lance I can get. Bretonnian knights… yes, I think they'll do nicely."

For the first time that day, Erhardt's mood improved. He poured himself a glass of wine and took a small sip.

"Have we received word from Herr Fischer and Lady Tuka yet? And have we found Thane Kregan and his dwarfs?"

"No word from the elves yet, though I doubt that they'll stand by and let the undead have access to their homeland. As for the dwarfs, our men have found nothing. In any case, I doubt that they would be able to make it back before the undead get here."

"Then we have no choice." Erhardt said solemnly, "As we have a shortage of soldiers, I have no choice; As per my authority as Margrave of Alnus, I hereby order the creation of an auxiliary force. Form regiments out of the able-bodied refugees, be they human or demihuman."

"The demihumans?"

"They are subjects of the Empire, it's time they fight for it. They're no different from the Halflings of the Moot, or the ogres of Ostland."

"A noble sentiment my Prince, but I can think of a few of your advisors who won't be thrilled with your decision."

"Yes, but unless they can magic up a dozen regiments of halberdiers for me, I don't care. We need every fighter we can get Siegfried, and at this point it doesn't matter if that fighter has a tail, or ears in the wrong place, so long as he or she knows where the pointy end of the spear goes, and makes sure it goes into the rotting flesh of some zombie."

* * *

 _Later that night_

"Oh, mighty Sigmar, protector of the Empire, hear my plea…" Erhardt said as he knelt before the shrine, "Guard us in the coming battles, give us strength of arms, and harden our hearts in the face of the unholy… Oh blessed Sigmar, patron of men…"

He had been praying for the past several hours. Messengers from both the Asur and the Saderans had reached him; they would be brining additional forces to help fight the Elban vampires. With their strength, combined with both his state troops, the irregular regiments he was forming from the human and demihuman refugees, and the inclusion of the Bretonnian knights, for the first time in months, Erhardt felt as if they had a chance… then he remembered that he would be facing vampires, and any sense of confidence he had gained dissipated.

Now, shortly after midnight, he found himself kneeling before the small shrine he had set up within his chambers, beside his bed. One to Sigmar, and one to Morr, his two patron gods. He prayed every night; both to give thanks to the Ur-Emperor, and to ask the Lord of Death that, when his time finally came, to look gently upon him, and to forgive him his failings.

Tonight, however, he prayed for courage. No sooner had dinner ended than he locked himself in his bedroom, got on his knees, and beseeched the God-King for help.

"Holy Sigmar…" he started, before the prayers, which he had dutifully said every night since he was a boy, trailed off into silence, the words forgotten.

"Oh, Sigmar help me. Help me please." he pleaded, both his words and his hands trembling "And forgive me my cowardice. For while I can face the forces of the Ruinous Powers, and the savage might of the greenskins head on, sword in hand, and a curse on my lips, my heart wavers at the thought of vampires."

He choked back a sob, and took a deep breath, unclasping his fingers, and bringing a hand to cover his mouth.

"I-I'm sorry oh Lord." He whispered softly, "I am ashamed of my fear, but whenever I think of what is to come, I see them so clearly in my mind. The pale skin, the red eyes, the blood-stained teeth! I see a horror, hiding behind a face of civility, whispering lies into naïve ears, and I see her smile-"

Her.

Repressed memories come unbidden to his mind; a beautiful woman, fair of face, and sweet of voice. A boy, no older than ten, enamored with her honeyed words and pleasant smile. Of dark nights, serene lullabies… and then-

Bile filled his mouth, and he swallowed it back down bitterly. He hadn't thought of that in years. He thought himself come to turns with it.

It seems that recent events proved otherwise.

He wiped the tears from his eyes, before he made a sign of the comet, turned his gaze away from the hammer and comet shrine to Sigmar, and towards the raven made of obsidian, dedicated to Morr. His expression hardened, and he clasped his hands together again in prayer.

"Blessed Morr, Lord of Death, King of Dreams, and Protector of Souls, guide me now. For years I have honored you; for despite whom we worship in life, it is the Garden that all men and women are bound. My prayers did you homage, but now, I will do more than pray. Let me, oh Lord of Death, be the instrument of your retribution. Grant me a will of iron, so that I may send these monsters back to their graves! Let me bring death, and in doing so, let me exorcise my own daemons from my soul."

Erhardt was then silent for a few moments, before then making the sign of Morr, moving his hand down his face with an open palm, like one would close the eyes of a dead body. He took a few moments to compose himself, then opened his eyes.

And came face to face with the apparition.

With a shout, he fell backwards, hand going for his sword, only to remember that he currently wore no weapon.

The apparition moved closer; a translucent being of pale green, vaguely human shaped, and covered in a shroud. It floated above the ground towards him, and Erhardt felt his blood chill in his veins.

"What are you spirit?" he shouted, "A slave of the vampires, come to kill me?"

It said nothing, only moved closer to him; slowly, ever so agonizingly slowly. The air grew colder and colder, and with it, so too did Erhardt's fear… and his rage.

"If you've come to kill me, then get it over with!" he growled, "I am but one man, and the Empire has countless heroes! I will be replaced by one far greater, who will put you and your undead masters to the sword!"

It stopped before him, and Erhardt forced himself to stare it right in it's hooded face, despite his every instinct to look away.

If he was to die, then he would do so without fear.

It did not kill him though; instead, it knelt before him, and placed a hand on his shoulder. It was cold, not unpleasantly so, but instead like a cool breeze on a hot day.

 _"Be not afraid."_ It said in a deep yet oddly soothing voice, _"You and I serve the same Lord."_

"You… you are a servant of Morr?"

 _"I am a messenger. Lord Morr has heard your pleas… and has answered them, through me."_

It stood to its full height, continuing to gaze through its shrouded hood at Erhardt.

 _"You admit to fear of the vampire, but you go to face them in battle regardless. You need no divine help in that regard."_

"Then why are you here?"

 _"To deliver a message."_

It raised an index finger, and reached towards Erhardt's forehead. On instinct, the Prince almost pulled back, but realized that the being before him meant him no harm.

 _"Be not afraid."_ It repeated, and finally touched Erhardt with its outstretched index finger.

Instantly, visions came to Erhardt; people he had never met, or had yet to meet. Places he had never been, and battles he had yet to fight.

 _"Await the arrival of the Black Sepulcher…"_ it said, _"Slay the White Raven… Burn the dragons to cinders… Unite empires with blood… Most of all, beware the Fallen Apostle of the Imprisoned God, for the danger he represents will bring doom to both worlds…"_

Erhardt opened his eyes. He was staring at the ceiling, in his bed. It was still dark. He turned to face the shrines beside his bed; one for Sigmar, and one for Morr.

'Was it all just a dream?' he wondered. It could have been just a dream. Morr was the God of Dreams though, so even if he was dreaming, that did not mean it was nothing.

He glanced to his clock, a fine piece of dwarfen engineering. It was a few hours before dawn; long after the supposed dream took place.

Many questions, but no answers. In such times of uncertainty, Erhardt did the only thing he could do.

Throwing the blankets aside, Erhardt got to his feet, and knelt before the shrines once more.

"Great Sigmar, Ur-Emperor of the Tribes of the Reik, I vow to be true to you and your teachings. I will return the undead to their graves, in your name. Lord Morr, all men are destined for your Garden, but before that, I will see the parasites who insult you burned to ash. Lord Sigmar, may your protection keep my men alive. Lord Morr…"

* * *

 _Emperor's War Camp_

The latest reports had just come in.

The warherds blocking the army's path were scattered, fleeing faster than a halfling in Stirland. This was good news; they had been delayed long enough, and the Waaagh! was fast approaching Averheim.

One issue resolved, only for another one to take its place… such was the life of the Emperor.

Karl Franz, Protector of the Empire, Grand Prince of Reikland, Prince of Altdorf, Count of the West March, Defier of the Dark, Emperor Himself and Son of Emperors, looked over the map of Sigmar's land, and took stock with the latest of his troubles. He was alone in his tent; one of the few, blessed moments of solitude that he could spare.

Increased raids from the Northmen plagued Nordland; he had sent Helborg to deal with that. It was not the first time his Reikmarshal had driven the barbarians away from their shores, and it would not be the last. At the very least, Kurt had gotten slaughtering Vargs and Skaelings down to an exact science.

In the south, there was a dispute between the local dwarf Kerak and his mines had erupted into violence. Karl disliked the notion of drawing arms against the dawi, the Empire's longtime allies, but knew that the dwarfs had overstepped, and now, he needed to respond, lest he be seen as weak. His Champion, Ludwig Schwartzhelm, would settle the matter, and if that meant raising the Sword of Justice against these troublesome dwarfs, then so be it. Thorgrim would understand.

In Averland, a horde of greenskins were swarming through Blackfire Pass, intent on raiding and setting the Empire to torch. Karl would be damned if he let that happen. Marius, his longtime friend, and occasional headache, would go ahead with his knights, with the intent of delaying the Warboss Ironjaw, so that Karl could bring the main force to smash the greenskins, just as Sigmar himself did over twenty-five hundred years ago.

Finally, there was the Gate, standing, like an ugly pimple, in the middle of _his_ province. He had tasked Erhardt with holding it against the Saderans, and to extend their territory; a risky endeavor to be sure. The Empire had not expanded for over a millennium, and that was not by choice. Gone were the days of Sigismund the Conqueror, and manpower was desperately needed to protect themselves from external threats, such as the Beastmen, the greenskins, and any other force of Old Night.

So far, Erhardt was doing an acceptable job. Territory was seized, deals struck with the locals, an alliance was formed with the Asur, and progress made in understanding this new world of Falmart. He had even managed to overcome a Chaos incursion.

That was before his son had sent home reports of the Chaos Moon appearing in the sky, and then the dead rising from their graves in force, commanded by vampires.

Karl grunted. His son was brave, and when he squired for Kurt, the Reikmarshal had nothing but praise for his service… but even the most courageous man would falter when faced with their greatest fear; and vampires were, without a doubt, Erhardt's greatest fear. Ever since those turn of events all those years ago…

"Father?"

Karl turned around and saw his heir and firstborn, Luitpold, enter the tent. He was a skinny young man, and not quite the warrior that his brothers, especially Siegbald, were, but he had inherited his father's keen political mind, and his mother's determination. He would be a fine

"What do you need Luitpold?"

"I understand my role in the coming battle father," Luitpold said as he took a seat, "And so do Siegbald and Kurt. It's just that… we're worried about Erhardt. Is it true that vampires rule the lands beyond the Gate now?"

"That is an exaggeration." Karl replied, as he slipped into the chair across from his son, "Yes, there are vampires, and yes, they command a large army. They do not rule the entire continent though. Erhardt is going to make war on them to ensure they do not."

"With all respect father, is that wise?" Luitpold asked, "He's a good soldier, but he's not experienced enough… and then there's his issues with vampires. I fear he is not ready. Why can't you send a more experienced general, like Helborg, or-"

"You would have me undermine Erhardt's authority as Margrave, by sending someone else to take command?" Karl asked, "That would all of us loose prestige in the eyes of the Electors."

"Of course, I don't want Erhardt replaced." Luitpold said, "But I worry if he will be able to handle this. I was young at the time, but even I remember how much the… incident scarred him. Both physically, and mentally. If he has to face vampires, ones that make even her seem like a mere parasite in comparison, I fear he'll lose his courage, make mistakes, and get himself killed. I don't want my brother dying so far from home."

"I am well aware of what happened all those years ago." Karl replied, "Just as I am aware of the trauma it caused him. After it came to light, your mother had him spend the nights with her and I for over a year before he felt safe enough to sleep in his own bed alone. That was years ago though, and Erhardt is no longer a little boy. He is a man, and I have full confidence that he will overcome."

"I… forgive me father, I should not have questioned you."

"There is nothing to forgive Luitpold. You are the eldest brother; it is good that you care so deeply about the wellbeing of your siblings. I was the same with my own siblings."

Luitpold was always protective of his brothers and sister; looking out for them always. It was one of his best traits, and a good one for an Emperor to have.

"I only wish there was more we could do to help him." Luitpold admitted, "He has barely any soldiers, and we all know how quickly the undead can rebuild their numbers."

The Emperor sighed. Karl wished that he could spare more men, or failing that, more experienced generals, to relieve Erhardt. That was not to be however. It was a Sigmar damned miracle that those Bretonnians had arrived when they did, otherwise his son would have to make do with just the forces he had available.

Still, what he lacked in available reinforcements, he made up for in different ways.

"Worry not about your brother." Karl said as he stood up, resting a hand on Luitpold's shoulder, "For I have sent him something that will be of great use in his battles; straight from the hidden vaults of the Altdorf's greatest Garden." 

* * *

_Fort Griffon, Alnus Hill_

As they passed through the Gate, the first thing one noticed was that the wagon, the horses pulling it, and the robes of its driver were all black, and bearing raven sigils. A dozen mounted knights served as escort for the wagon. They were armored in black plate, helmets adorned with red feathers, each bearing the banner on a black flower on red.

In the back of the wagon was a large black crate, shaped like a coffin. Though made of simple wood, any who gazed their eyes upon it felt a sense of dread.

"Halt!" a halberdier said as he and his fellow soldiers approached the wagon, "All passengers through the Gate must state your name and business."

"We already did on the other side." The driver said, his voice sounding like that of an old man.

"Well, you have to do so again on this side." The halberdier replied, "It's ta keep out any vampires, or anyone else who'd cause the Margrave trouble. I'll ask again; state your name and business."

"I am Baldur." The old driver said, "I am a Priest of Morr, come to see your Prince. Where is he?"

"He's gone off to meet with Princess Pina of Sadera." The halberdier answered, "She just arrived with three legions. Why does a Priest of Morr need to see him?"

"Such questioning… one would think you are a Witch Hunter." The old driver said with a sigh.

"I bring a gift," the old driver pointed at the coffin shaped crate in the back, "It is from both the Emperor and the Lord of the Underworld, straight from the Black Sepulcher."

* * *

 _Fort Griffon_

"Princess, it has been too long." Erhardt said atop his horse to Pina as she and her retinue of Rose Knights, scribes, and other retainers rode up to him.

Erhardt had prepared an honor guard for; lead by Siegfried, and made up of Reiksguard and greatswords. As a fellow royal, it was the least she was entitled too… especially considering that she was bringing with her a desperately needed army of three legions.

"I am inclined to agree Prince Erhardt." Pina said with a smile, "I am eager to do my part against the monsters to the south. I've lived up to my word; fifteen thousand men are several days march behind me. Have your efforts been successful in amassing additional soldiers?"

"Not as many as I had hoped, I am afraid." Erhardt admitted grimly, "Issues back home prevent the Emperor from sending additional forces, but several thousand Bretonnians have joined us."

"Bretonnians?" she asked, both royals riding side by side up the rode to Fort Griffon, "What are they?"

"Ah yes," Erhardt said, "I've forgotten that you are unfamiliar with the lands of the Old World. Bretonnia is my people's western neighbors. Beautiful country; straight out of a storybook in fact. Knighthood and Chivalry, their code of honor, is of the upmost importance to them. As such, I can say without exaggeration that they have some of the best knights in the world, and they're always eager to snuff out evil. We're very lucky to have them."

"Only a few thousand though?" Pina asked, "And the enemy we face numbers in the tens of thousands, if not hundreds?"

"I understand your concern." Erhardt replied, "But the truth of the matter is, we were always going to be outnumbered; there are more corpses in the ground then there is the living walking upon it after all."

"True enough." Pina conceded, but her tone was filled with displeasure.

"I have been able to raise some irregular regiments out of the refugees here." He said, trying to raise her mood, "Almost twenty thousand men and demihumans. They may not be professionals, but it's better than nothing."

"Taking demihuman auxiliaries?" she asked, eyebrow raised, "I thought your people didn't trust 'mutants' but it seems you have had a change of heart."

"If we're going to rule Alnus, then that means ruling over all its people." He explained, "Excluding half the population is foolish; I'd never be able to maintain control… and that means I wouldn't be able to tax half the people who live here."

Pina smirked, "A wise decision. Here I thought you Outlanders to be short sighted, but it seems there is cleverness within you after all."

"Coming from you, that is a high compliment."

The spent the rest of the ride to the castle like this; discussing the forces they had available, when they planned to march south, with a sprinkling of small talk. When they arrived at the keep, Erhardt had the servants show her and her retainers to their rooms.

It was then that Siegfried took him aside and lead him into the Prince's private chambers.

"You must stop this." He whispered softly, but firmly.

"Stop what?" Erhardt asked.

"These flirtations between you and the Princess. They must end."

"I beg your pardon? I am not flirting with her."

"That's griffonshit and you know it. You've barely been able to keep your eyes off of her body the moment you first met her. I know that you like girls with red hair, but Sigmar dammit, she is not our friend."

"She's an ally-"

"For now! That will change the moment we deal with the vampires. Then we'll be back where we started; with her trying to lure us into a trap with that ridiculous treaty! You know she's lying to us, and yet you insist on acting like she's some pretty girl for you to court! She is the enemy, and she's just waiting for the moment to stab us in the back. You need to stop thinking with your manhood, and start thinking with your head!"

"I do think with my head." Erhardt snapped, "You don't really believe that I buy that treaty for one minute, do you?"

"Of course not, but the fact remains is that you're too open with information around her."

"How?"

"You told her that His Imperial Majesty could not spare us forces due to "Issues back home." You might as well tell her that we're not as strong as we present!

"Forget about expanding the Empire's borders my Prince; that is secondary to holding the Gate. Once the Saderans realize that we're not as strong as we present ourselves, then they'll overrun us, slay everyone here to the last man, and then invade Reikland once again! In case you've forgotten, it took the combined might of four provinces to drive back the first invasion, and then to hold out during the siege! You think she's not writing down everything she learns about us, and then sending it back to her father. They have more men than us, they have an abundance of flying dragons, and when they discover that they can just march here, and slay us all, then we will have failed our duty to Sigmar and the Empire!"

Erhardt opened his mouth, as if to offer a rebuttal, but then closed it. For a moment, there was silence, neither man saying anything. Then, Erhardt finally spoke.

"Sigmar dammit all… you're right. I suppose I have been getting to comfortable around her."

"So long as you do not become too comfortable and forget that she's a Saderan, not a maid for you to court." Siegfried said.

Before the conversation could continue, there was a knock on the door, and a servant came through.

"Forgive me my lords, but a Priest of Morr has arrived, claiming to have come from the Black Sepulchre. He wishes to have an audience with you, Prince Erhardt."

Erhardt's eyes widened. He remembered his vision, the servant of Morr.

 _Await the arrival of the Black Sepulchre._

"Take me to him." He said, "Right now." 

* * *

"My Prince, thank you for meeting with me." Baldur, the priest, spoke as he opened the door to his lodgings, and led Erhardt inside, "We have much to discuss, and little time to prepare."

"You said you are from the Black Sepulchre." Erhardt said, "The catacombs beneath Altdorf, connected to each major Garden… and the vault for some of the most dangerous relics in the Empire."

"Correct on all counts Prince." Baldur said with a nod, "I've come from Altdorf at the behest of both the Emperor, and our god, Morr. I was instructed by your father to provide the Cult's assistance in vanquishing vampires. I've come for that, but also for another reason. The mission given to me through the Augurs of the Cult."

"And what mission would that be?"

Baldur pointed at the table; atop it was a crate, shaped like a casket.

"What is in it?" Erhardt asked.

"Open it, and see."

Slowly, Erhardt walked over to the crate, and gingerly opened the lid with both hands.

What was inside took his breath away.

It was armor, with its plate made of black metal. The helmet was in the shape of a human skull, with red and black plumage. Within its gauntleted hands was a greatsword, made of the same metal as the armor.

"It is beautiful." Erhardt finally said, "What is it, this artifact?"

"That is the armor of Lord Alfred von Austres, a champion of the Cult. After the Great War Against Chaos, and after Magnus the Pious, bless his soul, reunited the Empire, Lord Alfred went on a ten-year crusade against the Von Carstein vampires who slew his entire clan. His was a rich family, with bountiful lands, but he sold all of it to pay for the armor he would wear into battle. This armor was forged by dwarf smiths, and enchanted by wizards, both human and elven, with the magic of the Wind of Death imbued in runes. They even say that a spirit of that dread Wind resides in the armor. Whatever the case, every man who has worn the armor has become, for lack of a better word, more in-touch with the power of Morr, becoming His champion."

"So, if I wear this, what will happen?"

"That is for you to discover Prince Erhardt." Baldur said, "Be warned; not everyone can use the armor. First, there is a trial that you must undertake."

"What is the trial?"

"You must don the armor, and then, for five days and five nights, you must be sealed within the armor's casket."

"I must be sealed within it? For five days?"

"And five nights. While within the armor, you will be tested; Lord Morr will not waste his gifts on the unworthy. Only a handful of men have proven worthy of wearing the armor. Some have failed so miserably, the experience killed them."

"That… sounds charming."

"It is not."

"This trial… what is it? What will it be?"

"That will be between you and Lord Morr. I have told you the risks. Will you don the armor, take our Lord's challenge, and see if you are worthy?"

Erhardt said nothing. He gazed at the armor. The risk was great… but so was the reward.

He turned to Baldur.

"When do we start?"


	9. Chapter 9

He awoke in darkness. No lights, no way of knowing where he was… just the all-encompassing dark.

As his eyes slowly adjusted, he tried to remember how he got here.

When the clock struck midnight, he donned the Von Austres Armor, laid in the casket, and watched as Baldur shut the lid over him. With little else to do, he closed his eyes, and slept.

Then he awoke here, with no way of knowing how.

He was no longer in the casket, that was for certain. In fact, he was no longer wearing the armor… or anything else for that matter. Just a loose pair of pants, like the kind he wore to bed.

Alone in the dark, no idea where he was, and completely defenseless… if this was one of the armor's trials, then he was in for a rough time. Was it a vision, or did the armor's magic actually-

There. Movement. Something vaguely humanoid was in front of him. He couldn't tell if it was a man, woman, or even human; only that it was in front of him, standing several feet away.

"You there! Who are you?" Erhardt asked, "Where are we?"

No answer. Instead, the figure stepped back and pushed open an unseen door, letting blinding light into the darkness. It was so bright, Erhardt was forced to cover his eyes, lest he be blinded. After a few moments, he lowered his hand, and saw that the figure was gone. Seeing no other option, he made his way to the doorway, and stepped through the threshold.

On the other side, he found himself in what appeared to be a village, seemingly in the middle of an extremely thick forest; a collection of poorly constructed wooden hovels, with muddy roads, and a half collapsed well. The one thing that stood out was a small pillar, no taller than a man, with runes and script h could not decipher carved into it.

As he took in his surroundings, he noticed that the hovels had signs above their doors. Those words he recognized; they were in Reikspiel. One was an inn, the other a smithy, and so on.

"Am I back in the Empire?" he asked, "Or is this merely a part of the vision… and if it is, where are the people?"

He turned around to look at the door he walked through, only to see that it was gone, as if it had never existed.

"Sorcery." He muttered, "Just my damned luck… well, I knew what I was getting into when I shoved my ass into that plate. Now, what does the Morr damned thing want me to do…"

He continued to scan his surroundings, and eventually his eyes settled on a castle in the distance; the only other man-made structure in a sea of trees it seemed.

"Might as well start there." He said to himself, before then looking at the buildings, "But first… let's see if I can find some clothes."

The sound of snapping twigs made his heart stop. He turned in the noise's direction, and saw something shambling towards him.

A Sigmar damned zombie.

What was worse, it wasn't alone.

A dozen undead made their way down the muddy trail, arms outstretched, and heading for him.

Acting on instinct, Erhardt ran for the smithy, all thoughts of clothes forgotten. There was no time to get dressed.

What he needed was a weapon.

Inside the smithy, he searched desperately for anything that would help him. He wasn't expecting a castle's armory, but surely there had to be some kind of weapon in there, or something he could improvise with at the very least. The only thing he found was a blacksmith's hammer, and a woodsmen's axe. With grim acceptance, the Prince picked the two commoner tools up, one in each hand.

He went outside, now armed, and faced the approaching undead.

"If you bastards wish to return to your graves, then you've come to the right place." He growled, "I am Erhardt Franz, a Prince of Reikland; and I am your doom!"

He threw himself at the approaching zombies; hacking outstretched limbs from bodies with the axe, and smashing in skulls with the hammer. They reached out with their bony hands, clawing at him with rotting fingers, tearing at his flesh.

He ignored the pain; to acknowledge it would be to invite death. Instead he kept up his assault, killing as many zombies as he could.

It only lasted a few minutes, but to Erhardt, it seemed like hours. He swung until his arms were swore, and only stopped when the last of the damned things ceased to move.

Panting heavily, he looked over his body; his foes had left a host of bloody scars. Flesh wounds really, but they were inflicted by zombies. Illusion or not, he would rather not risk infection. Wincing as he moved, Erhardt decided that he would check out the inn, see if it had any beer. If it did, the perhaps he could use it to sterilize his injuries, and if there was enough, perhaps have a cup or two.

He damn well deserved it, after the fight he had been in.

Before he did so, he looked the dead men over. They may be rotting, but their clothes were still good.

Dare he risk it?

"What the hell." He muttered as he knelt down next to a corpse and pulled its boots off its foot. It wouldn't be needing it, but he did. He knew not what was between him and the castle, but he'd be damned if he walked there barefoot and shirtless.

* * *

"Good… very good." Baldur, the priest of Morr, said as he sat on a chair beside the casket.

His eyes were closed, and he looked as if he was in a trance like state, and if he had not spoken, one would have mistaken him for a dead man.

Somehow, through the power the God of Death bestowed upon his servants, the Priest saw Erhardt, and the trial he was currently undergoing; unable and unwilling to help, his duty was to bear witness.

"A very good start my Prince, but do not rest on your laurels just yet. This is only the beginning. The First of the Three. Make it to the castle my Prince… make it to the castle, and you will be one step closer to the armor."

* * *

 _Fort Griffon_

"Where is Prince Erhardt?" Pina asked Siegfried, "I haven't seen him since last night."

"My Prince is… busy." Came the knight's noncommittal reply, "He cannot be disturbed."

"Cannot- Sir Knight, I've brought three legions with me, and I need to know where to camp them, and then we need to discuss battle strategies-"

"Strategy will be discussed once all the armies have arrived, Your Highness. As it is, we are still waiting on the Asur to arrive under Captain Vanon. I ask that you be patient. As for where to encamp your legions, I can help you, if you do not mind."

"No, I do not." Pina replied, "I am concerned with Prince Erhardt's absence though. I was hoping to speak with him more. Do you know what he is doing?"

"He is… undergoing a religious ritual at the moment, with a Priest of Morr."

"Who is Morr?"

"Our God of Death. Prince Erhardt is a follower of the Cult of Morr, and takes his faith very seriously. I have been told that the ritual will take some time, and requires his full participation. In his absence however, I speak for him."

"I see… thank you Sir Knight. I would like to speak in a few hours, when I become available. We can discuss where to house my legions then. I'd rather they not camp next to your state troops; I hear they can barely get along with your auxiliaries, let alone people they are still technically at war with. I would rather avoid potential fights breaking out between our camps."

"Of course, Princess. I will see you then."

Siegfried bowed, and turned on his heel. Pina made her way back to her quarters, going over the new information she received in her head.

 _'_ _So, Erhardt is indisposed indefinitely then… this could be an opportunity.'_

* * *

 **High Elf Army Camp, Alnus Province**

"So, even though they're called Dark Elves, all that really sets them apart from you is their dark skin?" Halros, Captain of the White Lions, asked Tuka as he sharpened his axe.

"Well, there's that." Tuka replied, "They're also known for their… _risqué_ choice in attire. That, and their promiscuity."

"Really?" came the Chracian's response as he set his axe down and took a drink of ale, "When we get to the human's fort, perhaps I should get to know one or two."

"One or- oh!" Tuka blushed, "I see…"

The High Elf army had settled in for the night after a long day on the road. Tuka had started a fire when Halros sat down next to her and struck up a conversation, mostly asking about her world.

Tuka was once struck by how different Vanon's people were to her own. That was before she met a Chracian elf, and she learned that even the elves of Ulthuan were not all carved from the same branch.

Chracians were huge, tall and broad of shoulder. Instead of the graceful spears, swords, and bows favored by every other elf she met, the Chracians preferred their huge axes over all other weapons, making them stand out. They were boisterous, and their laughs were infectious. What was more, their homeland was a densely forested one, and their communities were home to tough and sturdy woodsmen.

She liked them immediately. In a way, they were like her own people; only with a greater fascination with axes.

"You're not corrupting my lady with your Chracian wit are you Captain?" Vanon said as he approached the pair of them, sitting down beside Tuka, his tone not at all serious.

"Of course not friend." Halros replied, "We were just discussing her world's dark elves. They're quite different from the damned druchii."

"If there's one thing I have learned from this world, it is that everything is far more different here than back home." Vanon stated, grabbing a flask of wine, removing the cap, and taking a sip before passing it to Tuka, "At times it's frightening just how different."

"Frightening? You should imagine how I feel." Tuka said, "Your people… they're so different from mine. You have a kingdom, armies, princes, and riches that put the Saderans to shame. All I've ever known of Elf kind was my own village, and my father's stories of the Great Forest."

"What's the Great Forest?" Halros asked.

"It's the closest thing that we elves have to a homeland." Tuka explained, taking a sip from Vanon's flask, then placing her hand on top of Vanon's "Where the majority of elves, be they high or dark, live. It's inhabited by several clans, who must constantly defend our last great home from humans. Many elven refugees go the Forest, join one of the clans who reside there; it's the pat I would have taken had you not found me"

"I don't think I'll ever get used to the idea of mere humans conquering elves." Halros said, "It just seems so… strange."

"You have armies to protect you, and great kings to lead you." Tuka said, her voice sad, "My people have never had that, not even in the days before humans came, when we inhabited much of Falmart. Now, all we have is the Great Forest, and a number of clans and villages who live scattered all over the continent."

For a moment Vanon was silent, looking at Tuka with a thoughtful look.

"Sounds like your people have it rough milady." Halros said, drinking more of his ale, "Fate has dealt your kind an unkind hand."

"An understatement noble Halros." Tuka replied, "Between the dragon burning my village, killing my friends and family, and now the undead on the march, "I'm afraid that the time of the elves on the Alnus region is coming to an end."

"What if it didn't have to be that way?"

Tuka looked at Vanon, eyebrow raised at his remark.

"What if your people weren't separated? Have they ever tried to band together? Create a new kingdom?"

"They've tried in the past…" Tuka said, "But such attempts always ended in failures. Humans would crush any attempts at starting an actual elven country, there would be disagreements between the high and dark elves over leadership, and more than one self-proclaimed king would meet his end one way or another. The closest we've ever gotten was Cu Fla Culain, who won a dozen battles against a dozen human kings, before he was betrayed by his own mistress. The last attempt was centuries before even my father was born. We've long since given up on creating our own nation. As I've said, only the Great Forest remains. It would be pointless to try again."

"Perhaps a year ago, that would be true." Vanon stated, "But now? Now Sadera has been humbled by the Empire, and most of Alnus will be waving Empire flags. The undead march in the south, and, perhaps most importantly, there's a portal connecting Ulthuan, and our armies, to your world."

"Vanon… are you implying what I think you're implying?" Tuka asked.

"He better not be." Halros said dangerously, "I may like you Vanon, but you do not have the authority to commit the armies of Ulthuan to such an undertaking. You'd need the support of the Phoenix King, or at least a collection of powerful princes, for such a mission."

"Then I shall claim such support." Vanon said, determined, "I'm not saying it will be easy, far from it, but our kinsmen are under threat here. They need our help, or else the humans here will drive them into extinction. Halros, you're a White Lion. Is it possible for you to get me an audience with the Phoenix King?"

"Yes, because I can just go up to him whenever I wish. Finubar and I have lunch every other day, for that is how close we are… Vanon, if you're going to play the role of savior to the locals, then at least wait until after we have put the dead back in the ground." Halros replied as he stood up, "Stay focused Captain, and if we survive this, then I may know someone who can set you on the path to getting an audience with the Phoenix King."

Halros walked away, leaving Vanon and Tuka alone.

"What are you doing?" Tuka asked, "Vanon, what got into your head that any of this is a good idea? Every time we've tried-"

"You failed horribly, yes, you've just told me that. Like I said, times change though. This chance could never come again. I don't want to make promises that I can't keep, but I believe this is the best way to help your people. Why else would the gods open the Archway between our worlds, if not to assist one another?

"At the very least, it's something to consider." Vanon said as he stood up, "Halros is right however; dreams and promises mean nothing until the dead are put to the torch."

He rolled his head in a circle and sighed.

"It's getting late however. We have a long march tomorrow, and I suggest we retire early."

"You go ahead, I'll join you in a minute." She replied.

"Very well then. Goodnight Tuka."

"Goodnight Vanon."

She watched Vanon leave, before turning her gaze to the fire. What had gotten into him? Creating a new kingdom for elves? In Falmart? As nice a thought as that was, it would never work. For that matter, Vanon was never the ambitious type. For the months she had known him, all he seemed to want was to do his duty, and live quiet life afterwards.

So why was he suggesting something so drastic?

She thought long and hard, but no satisfactory answer came to her. Eventually, she decided to heed the Chracians advice, and not think about it. After all, they had the undead to focus all their attention on first. 

* * *

With a roar of fury, Erhardt smashed the in the skull of the last zombie, sending it crashing to the ground.

That was the last one. Now he could finally breath.

Erhardt collapsed to the ground, uncaring that the dirt road was littered with the rotting corpses he had felled mere minutes before.

How long had it been since he left the village? Hours? Days? Whatever the truth was, this trial was living up to Baldur's warnings.

With a groan, he sat up, and looked ahead.

The castle was before him, in all its gothic glory. He had killed dozens, maybe a hundred zombies to get there. However, there was still an obstacle between him and the castle;

A maze, made of stone. To reach the front gate, he must first traverse the maze… and whatever dwelled within.

With tired strength, he stood up, forcing his weary and bruised body to obey his commands, putting one foot before the other. Without a word, he entered the maze, ready to face whatever was inside.

Morr was not done testing him yet, however.

As he made his way inside the labyrinth, Erhardt was unaware of two pairs of reds eyes, watching him… waiting to be unleashed.

* * *

He was not alone.

Something was in here with him.

Erhardt looked back and forth, trying to catch sight of… whatever it was. No luck. The maze had many corners, and whatever it was always dodged out of sight… if it was there at all. Erhardt was no longer sure.

It was not the only thing that he was unsure of. The amount of time he had been in here was chief among his concerns.

Hours? Days? Time seemed to blend together here.

It was not possible for days to have passed though. It was just his mind playing tricks on him. Just his mind…

He began to hear things. The laughter of girls. The hissing of snakes. The shattering of plates. They came from different directions. Sometimes they were far off. Sometimes they sound as if they were merely behind a corner. He never found anything, or anyone. He knew that he was alone, and slowly going mad.

The only truth he did know was that the maze was larger and more complicated than he first thought. So many dead ends, and he had found himself where he started on more than one occasion.

Erhardt turned a corner and came face to face with a wall. He spat on the ground and turned around, taking a different corner this time. He was getting nowhere fast. Was he doomed to spend his entire life in this damned maze? To die like this? No armor was worth this!

Erhardt screamed and slammed his hammer into the wall, breaking the stone. He didn't care that he was giving his position away; if there was something hunting him in here, it already knew where he was, and was content to wait. He continued to slam his hammer into the wall, venting all his frustrations.

Damn the vampires for making him desperate enough to agree to this damned trail! Damn Pina for playing games with him while the dead was on the march! Damn Siegfried for being so damned sensible! And damn father for making him Margrave! Most of all, he damned himself, for accepting, knowing full well that he was not ready!

He stopped smashing the wall, and sat down, breathing heavily. He looked upon the damage he had wrought, and felt a sense of satisfaction.

Then he began to remember.

He remembered a tale from his childhood; Sigmar himself, who was trapped in a labyrinth, inhabited by a minotaur. Sigmar had managed to kill the beast, easily in fact, and then he found his way out thanks to leaving a trail of yarn behind him. There were other versions of the tale that had Sigmar marking the path he took with paint. Other versions each had Sigmar find his way out with different tools. Separate versions, but they all had one thing in common; Sigmar left a trail, so he would not become lost.

Erhardt had no string, nor did he have paint.

What he did have was a hammer.

Erhardt began walking through the maze, striking every wall he came across with the hammer, leaving cracks behind. Should he ever come across his handiwork, he would know that he had already been through there.

As he did this, inhuman eyes watched him with cold, unfeeling logic. The boy was finally on the right track. 

* * *

_Saderan Camp, outside Fort Griffon_

"-And then we smashed into the gors, driving them all before us!" the knight, Von Hammerstein or something, said to the cheers and applause of his audience.

Pina clapped along with them. The knight's tale was well told, but graphic. She was used to such tales though, having grown up surrounded by soldiers. Raunchiness and gore no longer disturbed her, even if the half-drunk knight was clearly embellishing.

The fact that she was getting so much useful information on her allies made this entire enterprise worthwhile.

The Outlander occupation of Alnus had been a reality for months. Sadera knew that the enemy was powerful, and resourceful, having defeated both the initial invasion force back through the Gate, and then the Vassal Kingdom's attempt to retake Alnus.

That was all they really knew however. Sadera had defeated her enemies, and become the most powerful Empire Falmart had ever known not just by having a superior army, but by knowing her enemies. That was how they defeated the Helen League. That was how they brought the harpies to heal. That was how they broke the warrior rabbits now and for all time.

Currently, they knew next to nothing about the Outlanders, the "Empire of Man," as they called themselves. Pina knew that they were an empire. They had an Emperor, and Erhardt was that Emperor's son. They had powerful artillery. They had potent battle mages. They had experience in fighting dark forces.

That was not enough. If she were to accomplish her father's mission, Pina had to gather as much information as she could, without resorting to spying and potentially fracturing the alliance before the undead were defeated.

Thankfully, the sword at her hip was not the only weapon in her disposal. She had invited the officers and nobles of the Outlander army to a banquet, held in her camp. Free food and drink would entice them to come, and the knowledge that her knights, young and beautiful noble girls each, would also be in attendance, would ensure that they stayed.

With both wine, and in such pleasant company, tongues loosened. There were no state secrets of course; even with drink, military men knew better. She was not expecting anything like that though. She was after much smaller game.

Her fellow Rose Knights would engage in pleasant conversation with the Empire men. They would ply their charms, ask questions, and when the festivities were over, they would deliver everything they discovered to Pina.

"It sounds as if gors are a constant problem." Pina overheard one of her Rose Knights say to Von Hammerstein.

"Aye, the forests are full of them, but it's nothing that good Empire steel cannot handle. Greenskins are worse to be honest. Reminds me of when we marched into the Badlands-"

Pina was learning much. Their Empire had issues with 'beastmen,' demihumans who lived in the woods that made up much of their homeland, and greenskins, large warlike brutes, who came down from the mountains. It was not much, but it was a start. She was also learning the names of provinces, like Hochland and Stirland, and of the rivalries between provinces. Small things like this added up, and sooner or later, she would know more about them than they knew about Sadera.

"Thank you for your hospitality Your Highness." A voice came from behind her. She turned around and came face to face with the Lector, Bismarck Natter, who was holding a goblet of wine in one hand.

"Ah, Lector, how good to see you again." Pina said as she took a sip of her own wine, "I have not seen you since I left this Fort a month ago. How have you been?"

"I have been well Your Highness. I've been north, in Italica, speaking with the Countess."

"You were in Italica? How strange; when my army stopped at Italica on our way to Alnus, I did not see you."

"I am known for being very discreet Your Highness." Natter said, but Pina knew what he really meant.

 _"I did not wish for you to know I was there."_

"May I ask what your business was in Italica?"

"I was attempting to come to an arrangement with the Countess concerning the future prosperity of Alnus Province, as well as our future relationship."

 _"I was convincing her to break Italica's oaths of loyalty to Sadera, and declare for Erhardt instead."_

"Did you manage to come to an agreement?"

"Well, the Countess had to think on it first. I had no time to wait however, especially with the Von Carsteins on the march."

 _"I am not showing you my hand this early."_

That was all she would be getting out of him in that regards. However, she suspected that Italica would change its coat in the near future. They could not allow that. Unlike the other towns that Molt was 'handing over' to Erhardt, Italica was too damn important to the continent's trade to allowed to fall into enemy hands.

She'd have to ensure that the Countess remembered her loyalties, before her father decided to find a _new_ Count of Italica.

"if you do not mind me asking Lector, what do you know of the enemy that we face? The Von Carsteins, is it?"

Natter's face lost all charm and cheer. Damnit; she was impatient. She should have eased into asking that question-

"You'll be fighting them alongside us." Natter said, draining his wine down his throat, "You have a right to know what you shall be getting into. Let us find someplace quiet to sit and talk. This is a long story, and I would rather not tell it standing."

Pina nodded, and led Natter to a small table with wooden chairs. Natter leaned back in his chair as Pina took a seat across from him, intent on learning all she could.

"It all starts in cursed Sylvannia, where the Mad Count Otto von Drak was on his deathbed…" 

* * *

"Finally!" Erhardt shouted as he saw the castle gates before him. He had made it out of the damned maze! It had taken many hours, and his hammer arm was sore from overuse, but he was finally at the castle! Now, all that remained was to go inside, and discover the point of this test.

He took a step forward, towards the gates, and then he froze. For the first time since he saw the castle, he finally began to _see_ the castle, for what it really was. The gate was familiar, the construction was familiar, everything about it was familiar. He knew this place well.

It was the Imperial Palace in Altdorf.

It was home.

"What in the name of Khaine's Hell is going on here." He whispered, "This cannot be home… father has no maze that tortures his visitors. This… this is an illusion. It has to be! Buy why here? Why choose the palace?"

He felt the eyes upon him, staring a hole into the back of his skull. Once more, he turned around.

This time however, he saw what was stalking him.

Two great serpents, made of purple smoke, gazed upon him with dark red eyes. A brass collar, with an hourglass in the middle, connected the two serpents together. They hissed at him, and drew ever closer. Erhardt had never seen a beast like this, but somehow, he knew what it was.

It was an Incarnate Elemental of Death; a physical being born from one of the Winds of Magic. The Priest Baldur said that such an entity resided within the armor… and now, if he had any hope of survival, he needed to overcome a being of Shyish.

"The spirit of Lord Alfred's Armor…" he whispered, readying his weapons, "It comes for me."

The spirit then lunged at him, mouths wide open.

He stood his ground, and let out a battle cry as the death elemental tried attacked. The monstrosity's jaws snapped at Erhardt, and it took all of his skill, all of his years of training to keep himself from a horrible death.

Unfortunately, that was all he was able to do at the moment; dodge. The monster was faster than any creature its size had any right to be. He wanted desperately to go on the offensive, but it quickly dawned on him that was impossible. No, if he was going to survive this, then he needed to run.

He moved out of the way one more time and made a run for the castle gates, using his shoulder to knock it open. He then dashed down the entrance hall as fast as his legs could carry him, dropping his weapons; they only slowed him down. Behind him, Erhardt could hear the elemental crashing through the gate, letting loose ungodly shrieks.

Erhardt turned a corner that would lead him to the armory; Erhardt knew his home like the back of his hand, and this false Imperial Palace was the mirror image of the real thing. If he could not fight the elemental, then he would lose it in the palace's labyrinth like series of hallways and rooms.

He heard the elemental behind him become more and more distant. Was he losing it? Or had it given up the chase? Perhaps luring him into a false sense of security? No, no time to dwell on maybes. All that mattered was putting as much space between himself and that monster as possible.

Eventually, Erhardt found himself at the armory; the palace guard's, not his father's personal collection of high end and magical items. Still, if it was good enough for a halberdier, then it would be good enough for him. With this in mind, he opened the door and set to work arming himself.

He set to work arming himself, picking out a broadsword, a halberd, a knife, and strapping on armor, which was much harder to do by himself, and gave him a new appreciation for his squire.

After a half hour of equipping himself, Erhardt was ready to face the elemental. He would have liked a handgun as well, but the firearms and black powder weapons were kept in a separate room. He would have to make do with that was available.

He opened the door to the armory, and began to stalk the halls, looking for the elemental. He still did not like his chances, but at the very least he was better armed now than at their initial confrontation. Now… where was it?

He heard singing. It was a soft melody, and strangely haunting. It was coming from the west wing, where the Emperor's family would sleep. Was there someone else in here with him?

All thoughts of the elemental were forgotten; now he was drawn towards the singing. It was familiar… oh so familiar. How did he know it? More importantly, how did the one responsible for this illusion know it? Were they capable of reading his thoughts, going through his memories like a scholar in a library? The mere notion of a malicious intelligence capable of entering his mind sent shivers down his spine.

As he walked down the halls, the sound of the song brought forth memories; memories of his youth, when he was merely the fourth, unremarkable son. Not as smart as Luitpold, or as strong as Siegbald, or as clever as Kurt. Never special, he was just there, the runt of the litter. Why was he thinking of such things? This was no time to stew in insecurity and self-loathing!

He shook his head to clear his thoughts. It was the song. He had heard it from his childhood. It was so familiar, but he could not place it! Who had sung this? Mother? No, she had no voice for such things. Hildegard? No, her voice sounded different? Grandmother sung, but she was old even then. Who could it be? The only woman in his life from that early age that was left was-

His stopped before the door to the room; the origin of the singing. He placed his hand on the handle, and swung it open, before pointing his halberd at whatever was inside.

The sole occupant of the room stopped singing, and looked up at him. It was a young woman, blonde with green eyes. She was dressed in a simple gown, and when she saw him, she smiled a warm, welcoming smile.

She was the most terrifying thing he had ever seen.

"Hello Erhardt." She said, "It's been ages my dear boy. Look how large you have grown."

Erhardt dropped the halberd, and began backing up. His blood froze, and panic took root in his heart. Sweat formed over his brow, his knees began to give out, and the contents of his stomach threatened to come forth from fear.

"Matilda!" He exclaimed, face white as a sheet, memories, repressed and vivid, returning "No no no no no no no no! You're dead! You're dead, dead dead dead! You can't be here! You can't!"

"Is that anyway to greet your caretaker?" she asked with a smile, stepping forward, "I, who clothed you, read to you, comforted you when you hurt? I, who was more of a mother to you than the Empress herself? Who soothed your many, many worries?

"I was always there for you Erhardt, because I loved you like my own… all I asked in return was that you love me in return."

"Love you!" Erhardt shouted, backing up against a wall, "Love you! You- you did horrible things to me! You violated my mind! Turned me against my parents, and you used me as your own personal food source!"

"I could not survive without you my child." She said, stepping closer, "What you did for me was very important. You offered your blood freely to me; and you did it because you loved me more than the Empress."

"I did it because you made me!" he shouted, shaking like a dog during a thunderstorm, "I was a boy of ten, and you raped my mind with magic! I would never have offered you my blood otherwise, never would have tried to poison my mother, or stab my father in your defense! I'm glad that they tore you apart!"

"You don't mean that." She said as she stopped in front of him, placing a soft hand on his cheek, "You're confused, but now we are together again. I can take care of you again; wouldn't that be nice my boy? All I ask in return… is that you feed me."

Her words had a calming influence to them. Erhardt stopped shaking. He stopped being afraid. Why was he afraid in the first place?

Wordlessly, he tilted his head to the side, offering her his neck, just as he did all those years ago.

She smiled, and bared her teeth, slowly moving closer to his neck, basking in her victory… and completely oblivious to Erhardt's hand drawing his knife.

"Monster!" he shouted as he slashed her across her face. She screamed and pulled away, grasping her ruined eyes.

"I am not your plaything anymore!" Erhardt shouted as he threw the knife away and drew his sword, and stabbed her, "I am not your boy! I am Erhardt Franz, of the House Holswig Schlistein!"

He lashed out, taking off her left arm.

"I am the son of Karl Franz and Odette von Altdorf! I am descended from Emperors, and from Sigmar's own people!"

He continued to hack at the vampire, now taking her left leg off at the knee.

"I am a knight of the Empire, and a devoted of Sigmar and Morr. In the name of all the gods, I say this; I will never again fear your kind! I will make you fear me instead! I will be death incarnate, and I will put you back in your graves!"

He then brought the sword down on her head, cleaving it in two, killing the vampire instantly.

He felt joy and fury in equal measure. He had done it; he had his revenge!

It was the last thing he felt before everything went dark.

* * *

"Easy my Prince, easy." He heard the voice of the Morrite Priest, Baldur, say.

Erhardt slowly opened his eyes, trying to make out shapes. The visor of the armor was obscuring his vision, so he removed the helmet, slowly, as his limbs were shaking.

"How long…" he asked as the Morrite helped him out of the casket, and into a chair.

"How long were you within? Five days and five nights."

"It felt shorter."

"Time has no meaning within the trials." Baldur explained, passing the exhausted Prince a mug of ale, "Regardless, you have succeeded. The spirit of the armor has accepted you as its new master. However, there were some side effects."

"Side effects?" Erhardt asked, looking up from his drink, "Of what manner?"

"Well… it would be easier to show you."

Baldur produced a mirror from Sigmar only knows where, and held it up to Erhardt's face. He skin was pale, as if he had spent all his time indoors, away from the sun, and his hair was grey. His eyes were now a pale green in color. Such drastic changes came as a shock to him, and he spent several minutes looking at himself in a mirror.

"Well…" he said, "That is certainly unexpected. Though if this armor can deliver half of what you promised Baldur, then my vanity is a small price to pay for power."

"I assure you Prince, choosing to undertake the trials was the wisest decision you ever made." Baldur reassured him, "Ave Morr."

"Ave Morr."

* * *

 _Fort Griffon_

"Things are worse here now since I left." Vanon stated as he rode beside Tuka through the fort's gate, and pass the thousands of starving refugees.

"It wasn't as bad when I was last here." Tuka said as she looked sympathetically over a group of small children from various races, "There weren't as many people."

"My parents used to tell me stories of the time they were reduced to such a sorry state." Vanon said. Tuka looked at him, very curious. Vanon and his family, for all their gentleness towards her, rarely spoke of their past.

"Your parents were refugees?" she asked.

"It's not something they brought up regularly… but yes, they were. It was when Malekith last invaded Ulthuan in force. We were horribly unprepared. He struck fast, and hard. Thousands died, and not even Averlorn itself was spared. The Everqueen had to spend months hiding from assassins, and all the while many Asur had to flee their homes, my family included. This was before I was born, and while they never spoke of it to any of their children, I always saw the pain in their eyes. It is the same pain I see on the faces of these poor souls."

She said nothing. What could she say? Instead, she kept her peace, and focused on leading Vanon to the Fort.

The gate was already opened to them, and the human halberdiers merely waved them through. To Tuka's joy, Lelei had chosen to greet her personally, standing in the middle of the muddy courtyard, accompanied by Yao.

"Welcome back Tuka." Lelei said as she approached.

"Hello my friend." Tuka said after dismounting her horse, wrapping the smaller human in a hug, "And hello to you as well Yao Haa Dushi. Were you able to relocate your people in time?"

"We were." Yao responded, "We're living in a forest closer to the Hill for now, but most of our warriors will be joining the march south." In the middle of her sentence, Yao's eyes began to wonder over to the other elves who accompanied Vanon and Tuka, before settling her gaze on one in particular.

"Who is that mountain of elf?" she asked Tuka, who turned around to follow her dark elf cousin's gaze.

"Oh, that is Halros." She explained, "He is captain of a unit called 'the White Lions.' They serve as the bodyguards to the Phoenix King."

The elf in question was dismounting, not from a horse, but from a chariot pulled by two huge lions. The beasts roared at any human to came too close, much to the hearty laughter of the Chracian.

Yao was very much intrigued.

"I wish we could be seeing each other under better circumstances." Tuka said to Lelei, as Yao's attention was now clearly elsewhere.

"That's an understatement if I ever heard one." The normally quiet mage replied, before turning her gaze to Vanon "Captain Vanon, a pleasure to see you again. Prince Erhardt has called a council for the leaders of this coalition. It is scheduled for dinnertime, in an hour. He would be greatly honored if you attended."

"Of course." Vanon said, putting a hand on Tuka's shoulder, "Come, it's been a long ride, and we could both use sleep. Let us retire to your room; is it still the same one?"

"Yes, it is…" Tuka began, leading her lover to the keep. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Yao approach Halros, and struck up a conversation with him. She did her best to keep a wry grin from forming on her face. 

* * *

"Princess?"

Pina looked up from the bottle in her hand. She had been debating drinking from it. It was a strong vintage, brewed by orcs, and if drunk to excess, would probably kill a full grown human man. Pina was neither full grown, or a man, but at the moment, being drunk would be better than sober.

"Come in Bozes." She said plainly, putting the bottle back on her desk.

Her oldest friend and second pulled back the tent flaps and stepped inside, her eyes narrowing in on the bottle.

"What is it Bozes?"

"The elves have arrived. Prince Erhardt has called for a war council at dinner tonight."

"Did he now?" Pina asked, only barely interested, "So he finally emerges from that… ritual."

"He did, but none have seen him as of yet." Bozes said, once more turning her gaze to the bottle, "Are you trying to kill yourself?"

"I am considering it."

"The undead cannot be that fearsome of an opponent."

"It is not about the undead." Pina said, "It concerns this."

She held up a small scroll, and held it out for Bozes to take. She did so, unwrapped it, and began to read.

" _Dear daughter, it has come to my attention-_ is this from the Emperor? I cannot read this! It is improper!"

"Yes, it is; freshly delivered from one of father's best infiltrators, who plopped it in my lap, and then went away. He's probably halfway to Italica by now. Regardless, read it anyway, I assure you that I won't care."

"I… yes Your Highness… _It has come to my attention that your placement to the Outlander Prince as an ally brings with it an opportunity. Barbarians are simple minded creatures, ruled by emotions, and desires; especially those in a position of authority. You are a beautiful young woman; therefor_ e, it would be wise for you to find a way into his bed… is… is he asking you to sleep with Prince Erhardt to gain information?"

"That is only the start." Pina said despondently. "He wants me to do more than to simply sleep with him like a common harlot. No, he wants me to put ideas into his head… ideas such as a political marriage; between himself, and a Princess of Sadera."

"No." Bozes whispered, "He would have you sully yourself like that with such a lie?"

"Oh, not all at once." Pina spat, bitter at the circumstances she found herself in "I merely have to put the idea into his head. Afterwards, his pet diplomats will make an 'official' offer of engagement. Think of it Bozes; an Outlander, married to a descendant of Old Sader himself. It would give him all the legitimacy to rule Alnus he needed… and perhaps a claim on Sadera herself. He would be a fool to refuse such an offer."

"A great fool. So, if your father would have you marry the Outlander, and then continue to spy on him? Your Highness, that is… that is a foul, dishonorable- that he wishes for you to do this is shameful!"

"That is not what he wants me to do…"

"Princess? Then what does the Emperor demand?"

"… He wishes us married, so that I may take a knife to his breast, and drive it deep into him."

"Assassination." Bozes stated, her fury rising, "He wishes for you, his own daughter, to assassinate a man who, if all goes according to his plan, would be your husband? To drive a dagger into his heart, and stain your marriage bed with lifeblood?"

"He did not specify a dagger precisely." Pina pointed out humorlessly, "So perhaps he leaves the matter of when and how to me. He may have mentioned perhaps that I should wait a month."

"A month… by then, you could be pregnant." Bozes stated, "To kill not only one's husband, but the father of your child? Has he no shame!"

"He also mentioned ways to terminate the child while still in the womb." Pina said as she opened the bottle and began to pour it into a crystal glass, "And if it was too late, then we could just sell it into slavery. He even offered to let me keep the profits of the sale; how generous of him."

He does know what circle of Hardy's domain awaits those who do such things, does he not? Or of what the Outlanders will do to you once they discover your treachery?"

"Oh, he knows." Pina said, "He knows, and has decided that, if I cannot escape, then I am an acceptable sacrifice. Me, his own _daughter_!"

Pina threw the glass to the ground, and watched it shatter.

"I have done, so much for him! I have sullied my honor, and would have gladly continued to do so, for I love my Empire. He is the Emperor, and must be obeyed in all things, but this; this would damn me, and my soul for all eternity… and he expects me to do it gladly?"

Tears began to flow down her cheeks freely.

"He no longer cares for me… not since the Gate. Not since the invasion. He uses me like one of his spies, to sacrifice my honor, and mu dignity. There is serving the fatherland… and then there is this. Well, no longer. I am not his harlot to sell, not am I his assassin, and I will no longer be his spy.

"He is not a worthy Emperor Bozes, and when this business with the undead is over, I intend to tell him as such… for now though, I need to think, and to plan." 

* * *

_Later that night…_

"Where is the Prince?" Sir Gerome, Grail Knight, and leader of the Bretonnian Brotherhood of L'Anguille, asked, "This is his dinner after all."

"He will be here soon Sir Gerome." Siegfried said from the right of the chair at the head of the table, assuring the Grail Knight.

It was a strange collection sitting at the Prince's table; Reiklander Generals, a Lector of Sigmar, Bretonnian Knights, a Saderan Princess, Asur from Ulthuan (and one from Falmart), a mercenary captain, and several others.

"How soon are we talking here?" Voland, Captain of the Venators, asked in-between bites of his ham leg, "I think I speak for everyone here when I say I don't like to be kept waiting."

"You don't speak for me, you barbarian!" Gerome said, hand on his sword, "And I should kill you where you stand!"

"Oh, should you now?" Voland asked, "Well, I want to bend your Faye Enchantress over and give her a taste of what she's missing, but we both want things we can't have."

"You dare!"

"Gentlemen, please, calm yourselves." Natter said as he gingerly cut his meat with a knife and fork, "Sir Gerome, please pay no mind to Captain Voland, he is an uncouth mercenary. As for you _Captain_ , I will pay you more if you keep silent."

"… I'll be quieter than a Garden of Morr."

Gerome muttered something under his breath but made no further moves, settling for a disgusted look on his otherwise perfect face.

It was not just the Grail Knight; No one at the table looked especially enthused to be there. Pina appeared sick, Vanon and his elves looked out of place, Siegfried was uncomfortable, Hausiler, the Witch Hunter, was making everyone uncomfortable, and so on. Only the Lector appeared to be in his element.

That being said, everyone was wondering the same thing; where was Erhardt?

The universe answered for them.

"Presenting, Erhardt Franz of the House Holswig Schliestein, Markgraf of Alnus, and Prince of Reikland!" the herald shouted as two footmen opened the door to the Prince's private chamber, letting the man in question out.

To the surprise of everyone who knew him, Erhardt was a shocking sight. White hair, pale skin, and pale green eyes, the Prince was garbed in black armor, decorated with symbols of Morr and Sigmar. If one squinted their eyes, and peered close, they could even see faint whispers of something exude from the plates.

"Good Sgimar, Erhardt…" Siegfried said as he rose, completely shocked, "What…. Has happened to you?"

"An unfortunate side effect of the armor." Came the Prince's reply, ignoring the breach of protocol, "I assure you, the changes are only physical. My mind is still my own."

He walked to the table, and set both hands on the polished wood.

"Friends, countrymen, esteemed guests and allies, tonight we are going to talk about killing vampires."

* * *

 **A Vassal Kingdom, taken by the armies of Von Carstein**

"Behold Remus," Mannfred said as the two vampires walked through the ruined streets, "See how easily they surrendered when but offered a choice?"

Remus Von Carstein, King of Elbe, followed his father-in-darkness' gaze. Hundreds of humans and demihumans were forced to kneel in the ashes of their city, held at spearpoint by skeleton soldiers. Soon, they would be given a choice, the same choice given to all who opposed the Von Carsteins.

"No doubt the fate of Argium was all the convincing they needed." Remus stated, fondly recalling the last city they had taken, "They know the response to further defiance will bring."

"Indeed. And with this victory, all the south is mine. Now, to move our attention to the rest…" Mannfred began, before his attention was diverted elsewhere.

"Master?" Remus asked, curious as to what made the elder vampire silent.

"Remus." Mannfred said, "Gather the leaders of this city and bring them to the palace. Afterwards, go to the crypts, and raise any that you believe will make a powerful undead."

"At once." Remus said with a bow, then turning around.

"Come along father." Remus ordered a wight king with a jeweled death mask, who dutifully obeyed.

For his part, Mannfred walked into an alley, alone and unattended, but moving with purpose; he was not wandering aimlessly after all. He came to a dead end and stopped, his glowing eyes shining in the dark.

"Come out." He ordered, "I could smell you from the street."

Out of the shadows came the Old Man, staff in one hand, but white raven curiously absent. Gone, however, was his trademark smirk. Now, an expression of anger was settled upon his face.

"Ah, Bruno, it has been some time." Mannfred said in a familiar tone, "I thought you had forgotten about me."

"You do not hold to the pact we made Von Carstein." 'Bruno' said, "You were to take your army north, and overwhelm the Empire. Instead, you waste time here, taking the broken remains of the Alnus Siege for yourself."

"I do not hold to the pact?" Mannfred asked condescendingly, "I seem to recall certain promises you made to me… promises of an army of powerful mortals, who would become mightier in undeath. You made assurances that Flavius, and all his men, were to serve me, to come south and become the first of my army. Instead, what do I discover? Flavius went north, to Italica, and ended up dead."

"Flavius was a fool, and he paid for it. His fate is irrelevant. You owe me for bringing you, and all your servants here. A new world, full and ripe for the taking! All I asked of you was that you destroy the Sigmarites! Instead, what have you done? You waste away the days here, playing at being a conqueror! You sire a new brood, and lord over the Vassals! Enough of your frivolities! I call upon you to fulfil your pact!"

"And you promised to deliver unto me an army."

"You have an army!" Bruno shouted, "A large one-"

"It was not the one that you promised me." Mannfred interrupted, "I wondered why that was. What possible reason could you have to lead Flavius north, and get him killed?"

"He killed himself-"

"I do not believe. I have ears, even in Italica. They told me that Flavius served the Ruinous Powers. And that daemons came to fight alongside him, before they all died, and the daemons were banished. I was furious when I heard the news… and then intrigued when I thought longer on it, especially when news came to me that Jhuin the Silent Screamer was summoned, and then banished.

"So, I set out for answers… and I found Solomon."

A shocked expression crossed Bruno's face, "How do you know that name?"

"Solomon missed his last deadline, did he not? Not unusual, I am told, when schemers like your god's worshipers are involved. My servants found him, in the City of Mages. They 'convinced' him to come south. I asked him questions, and he answered me… He. Told. Me. _Everything_."

"That's… that cannot be true."

"Oh, but it is. Imagine my surprise to discover the true conspiracy at work here. A cabal of Sorcerers, in service to a council of the Raven God's daemons, with the intent to bring Falmart under their control in the name of their god… but whom shall rule in the Great Deceiver's name?

"Will it be the army of barbarian tribesmen and their new animal concubines, that you have hidden in the North? Or will it be the Saderan Empire, now ruled by a dynasty loyal to Tzeentch? What better way to decide whomever is worthy of **His** favor, then to pit them against one another?

"There was just one problem; the Gate on Alnus, and the one leading to Ulthuan. It seems that other powers interfere in the plan. You cannot have that, but you cannot have your pawn's strength be wasted on them, with the humiliating defeats from both the initial invasion and the siege being proof enough.

"So… you brought me here, with promises you had no intention to keep, to be… pest control. I would kill the Imperials and the elves for you, and then you send me home, with a paltry payment, and then your plan would once more follow the lines your daemon masters had decreed.

"It was an interesting strategy to be sure, but you made one error in judgement. What follows next is speculation, but speculation that I am certain is true; Every sorcerer is nominally loyal to the entire council of daemons, but we both know that is far from the truth. Each sorcerer has their own patron, whose bidding you carry out. Your master was Jhuin the Silent Screamer, on the surface at least. The reality is that you truly served the one known as "Everwatcher," Jhuin's rival. At the Everwatcher's demands, you summoned Jhuin to the mortal plane, and gave him Flavius' army to command, so that he would cause misery and death on first Italica, and then the Empire and elves.

"Except, he fought two Apostles… and he lost. This was no accident. You knew of the Apostles' presence, and you summoned Jhuin, knowing that he would fail, and be banished. Except, being banished here, in Falmart, is much different than being banished in our world. So far removed from the Realm of Chaos, his essense, upon being banished, is torn to shreds and violently scattered, leaving the daemon even less than a shell of their former self. I do believe that it is the closest their kind can come to true death.

"You planned Jhuin's defeat on the Everwatcher's behalf, ridding your master of his rival, and elevating yourself among your peers, putting you in a position to guide Sadera into its new role as the center of Chaos in Falmart.

"So, Bruno, am I correct?"

Bruno said nothing. He did not need to, for Mannfred already knew the truth.

"I thought as much. When Solomon told be all your secrets, I had turned him to my service in a more… obedient form. It was then that my plans changed. I will kill the Empire and the Elves, but not for you. I will make a new Sylvannia here, in this world, and I will rule it as an immortal Emperor."

"You seek to rule! You forget Von Carstein, that I hold access to the portal that brought you and your kind here! I can cut you off, just as easily!"

"I no longer need you, _filth_. Not when I take Alnus Hill for myself. I will conqueror this world, and then I will use it build my armies until they number in the billions, and then I will take them through the Gate, and take _my_ world. But first, I will kill your god's chosen candidates, and raise them as my servants.

"I shall start with you."

Bruno raised his hand and shot lightning at the vampire. Mannfred merely raised a hand and swatted the bolt aside.

"A sorcerer of Chaos you may be," Mannfred said as he stepped closer, both hands engulfed in arcane fire, "But I am **Mannfred Von Carstein**. I am beyond you."

He raised both hands and unleashed his flames upon the old man, who frantically raised his cloak to block the dark flames. As the flames abated, Bruno looked up and saw a clawed hand grasp around his throat, and lifted him several feet off the ground.

Mannfred opened his mouth, showing Bruno his fangs, and bit into the old man, beginning to drain his blood.

"N-no!" Bruno shouted, "My master, save me! Save me! Master! Master!... **Sarthorael**!"

A force separated vampire and man, sending both crashing into the walls of the alley. Mannfred looked up, and saw an avian being of white light descend upon the Old Man. It wrapped the sorcerer in its wings, and unleashed a blinding flash, forcing even Mannfred to avert his eyes.

As the light faded away, Manfred look up. Both Bruno and the entity were gone.

"It appears that your master still has a use for you." Mannfred said to himself, picking himself off the ground, "No matter. You will be sustenance and slaves soon enough; you, and your pawns."

Mannfred then left the alley, and made his way to the palace, past the results of his victory over the living. The forsaken living, the dead, and the undead. Soon, all that walked upon two worlds would serve him.

* * *

"Master." Remus said as Mannfred entered the courtyard, followed closely by Duran's wight, "I have done as you asked. The noble class is assembled here, and their crypts have been raised into your service."

"Good." Mannfred said as he stepped before the kneeling humans, who whimpered in fear as the vampire's shadow fell upon them.

"I now give you the same choice I gave all others who stood before me; Serve me in _life_ … or slave for me in _death_."


	10. Chapter 10

_Alnus-Alguna Border_

The cannons roared as they rained fire and death among the mass of undead. The rotting corpses broke apart under the cannonballs long before they reached the defensive line of halberdiers.

The state troops held their ground, keeping the horde of undead at bay with drilled professionalism. Behind them, crossbowmen and handgunners unleashed bolts and lead balls into the enemy.

Erhardt, upon the hill, seated on the back of his horse, saw all of this. His men were holding the line. Good. So far, everything was going well.

The coalition army had arrived yesterday, at the Alnus-Alguna border, west of the Tuba Mountain Range. For the past month, the Grudgebringers had been stationed there, ambushing and destroying any undead force that dared to venture north.

The coalition had arrived just in time. So far, they had only been relatively small bands of undead, no more than a few thousand. Now, the Von Carsteins were sending tens of thousands of undead.

Erhardt's state troops, the mercenaries, the ad hoc human and demihuman auxiliaries, and Pina's legions were holding the center line. Meanwhile, the Bretonnian knights charged into the undead's flanks, crushing rotting corpses under the hooves of their horses.

"It is good fortune that the battle goes in our favor." Pina said as she rode up to Erhardt, "Whatever intelligence guides the dead is ill suited to battle, the way they keep throwing bodies at our lines."

"Don't start celebrating yet." Erhardt replied, eyes focused on the battle, "Whomever our enemy today is, it's clear that they are a lesser Von Carstein, perhaps one of the newborn vampires. Mannfred's inner circle will be much more dangerous."

"You don't need to remind me." Pina stated, "Your Lector Natter educated me on your people's Vampire Wars; very interesting tales."

"Did he now? What did he tell you?"

"Everything. From Vlad's rise to power, the insanity of Konrad, and Mannfred's final war. It's clear to me that the Mannfred creature is the most cunning of the three, which, coincidently, makes him the most dangerous as well."

Erhardt grunted, but said nothing. Instead, he kept his eyes on the battle. The vampire had sent out undead drake riders, which were swooping down into their lines, and picking up two to three men at a time, flying them to a great height, and then dropping them.

The Prince was not worried however. He saw his iron companies load grapeshot into their guns, and had already begun to aim their cannons into the sky. That was how they killed the lesser dragons by the dozens back during the weeks long Siege of Alnus.

"You stare intently at the battle." Pina observed, "But you're not just looking at the fighting, are you?"

Erhardt raised an eyebrow at her, but then gave her a small smile.

"Quite perceptive, aren't you?"

"I grew up in the Saderan Imperial Court; you do not thrive there by being unobservant. Now, will you tell me what has your attention?"

"Very well." Erhardt said as he looked back to the battle, "You know that I underwent a religious rite, yes?"

"It was dedicated to your death god, Morr, correct? It changed your appearance."

"It did more than that. It allowed me to bond with the armor you see me wear right now. Within its construction is a spirit of death. It is through it that I now have certain… abilities. I am using one such ability even as we speak."

"What ability is that?"

"The Colleges of Magic call it the 'Witchsight.' I can now see magic. More importantly, I can see souls. I see the souls of everyone around me. I can see my dead men as their lives depart their bodies. Most of all, I can the souls of the damned; the poor wretches who have been raised by the Von Carsteins as their undead slaves. Their souls are now tied to their bodies, trapped here on this mortal plane. They are in such great pain Pina. We need to free them. The only way to do that is to kill Von Carstein's vampires and necromancers."

"I… I see." Pina said, looking from Erhardt to the undead, and then back to Erhardt, "What else can you now do?"

"Not much." He stated truthfully, "I am no mage. I can cast no spells. There is something I can do with my sword however-"

He was cut off by a loud horn blast, originating from the undead's side of the field. Squinting his eyes, Erhardt saw a new wave of undead come. They looked different from the usual mobs they had initially faced however. They flew banners.

"The time has come for us to join the fray." Erhardt said, drawing his blade, "Shall we?"

"After you." Pina said, drawing her own sword.

With that, both royals charged down the hill, followed closely by his Reiksguard and her Rose Knights. 

* * *

_Earlier, behind the right flank_

"How much longer must we wait?" Halros said as he scratched his lion behind his ear, "It's not right for the Asur to let the younger races do our fighting for us."

"Patience noble Halros." Vanon said as he watched the battle, "It is also not right for the Asur to spend our energy fighting lesser foes such as these zombies. Better for us to engage the enemy when they throw their best troops at our allies."

"I know, I know." The Chracian said, "But it's not in my nature to wait on the sidelines for a fight."

Vanon sympathized. Halros was not the only Asur to grate at being held in reserve. As Erhardt had the largest number of soldiers in their coalition, he was the nominal leader. That sat ill with many of the prouder elves under Vanon's command. Still, they obeyed his orders, and held position, waiting for the vampire's elite units to enter the fray.

Then a horn blast sounded.

"Vanon!" Tuka shouted as she ran over, followed closely by her friends, Lelei and Yao, "The scouts just reported in. They saw things called wights approach!"

"Wights are what we have been waiting for." Vanon said, "Where are they coming from?"

"The southeast." Lelei said, pointing in that direction, "If you have a spyglass, you can see them now."

Vann removed his spyglass from his belt, and looked through it. Sure enough, an army of wights, or grave guard as they were more commonly known, was marching into the field. They marched in close formation, each armed with the short sword favored by the local soldiery, a gladius, he recalled, and a rectangular shield.

"I see them." He said, "Tell the archers and Eagle Claw crews to focus their fire and… wait. What are they doing?"

The grave guard had closed ranks, putting their shields together until their front, sides, and top were completely protected. The formation reminded Vanon of the shell of a turtle.

"Well, that's new." He said, "Whoever controls the grave guard is clearly has better imagination than the one controlling the zombies."

Vanon put his spyglass away and mounted his horse.

"It won't save them though! Sons of Ulthuan! To battle!"

* * *

Erhardt hacked at the undead with his sword, sending rotting body parts flying with every swing. For each horror he slew, he could see their trapped souls leave the prison that their bodies had become.

That filled him with joy.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Pina smash a wight through its skull with a warhammer, having traded in her sword for a weapon that crushed bone. He noted with approval that Pina had tied her beautiful long braid around her head to prevent a foe from grabbing it, and was wearing a helmet, decorated with the Saderan dragon, for added protection. A future foe she may be, but she was growing into quite a warrior.

Their assembled knights were crushing all that stood before them, trampling old bones and maggot infested flesh under hooves, and steel weapons fell the abominations by the dozens. All across the field of battle, the undead were being pushed back by the coalition's superior skill in arm. State Troops, who had been holding their ground, now advanced, halberds, spears, and swords sending the enemy back to their graves.

On the other side of the battlefield, Pina's legions were also making great progress. This may be their first battle against the undead, but they were professional legionaries. They kept their fear in check, and pressed onward, hacking at their decaying foes with swords, and bashing them with shields. Demihuman auxiliaries, both Saderan and Imperial, displayed valor as well, fighting the undead with great courage and resolve.

Erhardt kept his focus on the enemy in front of him however. The vampires were sending in more wights. Unlike the ones he had previously been fighting, these ones moved with drilled discipline, in formations that he had seen living Falmart armies fight in.

"Do you see that?" Pina asked as she rode up next to Erhardt, the spike of her hammer coated in blood and gore, "Those zombies are in the Testudo Formation. Damned souls must have been soldiers in life."

"And the one controlling them must have some experience in military matters." Erhardt replied, "We need to find the vampire, and kill it."

"First, we need to break their shells." Pina stated, "How accurate are your artillery officers?"

"They trained in Nuln, the most prestigious school of artillery in the Empire. The only ones more accurate with cannons would be dwarfs."

"Then you should send a rider back there and tell them to break those formations. We break that, and we can break through their lines, find the vampires leading this force, and kill them."

"A sound strategy. Sir Gruber!"

A Reiksguard Knight approached, and saluted Erhardt.

"My Prince?"

"Ride back to the Iron Companies, and tell their captains to focus fire on the wights marching in formation. Then tell the handgunners to keep fliers away from the cannons."

"At once My Prince!"

Erhardt turned away from the knight and back to the approaching wights. Things were about to get lough; it was time to call back the knights.

It was then that he was set upon by an undead dragon. It grabbed his horse in both its claws, picking it up with the intent of flying away.

Acting on instinct, Erhardt brought up his sword, and felt his armor's spirit awaken within the plate. The magic of the Amathyst Wind flow from his sword arm, and into his blade. He then slashed at the dragon's legs which were holding his horse, cutting through them like a hot knife through butter.

Erhardt and his horse fell back to earth, but the force of the impact broke his steed's legs, and sent the prince tumbling to the ground.

Erhardt quickly got to his feet, and looked his horse over. Between the broken legs, and the gaping holes made of the dragon's claws, there was nothing he could do for it… except give it mercy. He would have to be quick; the dragon, despite missing its hind legs, was coming back around.

Erhardt stabbed his horse in the head, ending its suffering. He then turned, and lopped the heads off a trio of approaching zombies in a single swing, before then turning his attention back to the approaching dragon.

Erhardt held his sword in both hands, and readied his stance. The dragon flew low, and opened its rotting jaw with the intent of grabbing him and puncturing both armor and flesh with dozens of holes. In response, Erhardt willed that more magic pour into his weapon.

Erhardt Franz had the Witchsight, but that was not all his bond with the armor gave him. The plate possessed a spirit of Death within it, and manipulated that creature to provide magical power to destroy the undead through channeling its magic into the weapon the one wearing the armor wielded. The more powerful the undead foe, the more magic that would be channeled into the blade.

Facing an undead dragon allowed the spirit to send large amounts of power into his sword. Any more, and the elemental might overwhelm him. As it was now, however, his sword was glowing with magic, ready to do its bloody work.

The dragon swooped down, and tried to snatch Erhardt in its mouth. Instead, the Prince sidestepped the rotting jaws, and brought his blade down on its neck. The force from the magical attack did not just slice through scales and necrotic flesh, but it also completely shattered the bones in the neck, and decapitated the monster in a single blow.

The dragon crashed into the earth, and began to burn in the purple fires of Shyish.

Erhardt had no time to savor his victory however. His heart had stopped beating. Desperately gasping for breath, Erhardt had let go of his sword, dropped to his knees, and began pounding his armored chest with his gauntlets.

Eventually, that muscle began to move again. Through labored breathing, Erhardt muttered a quick prayer to Sigmar. It seemed that, the stronger the magic in his attacks, the more likely it would be to kill him. He had not expected that, but it was not surprising. Still, it would not be good for his health if he repeated that attack twice in the same battle.

"Prince Erhadt!" Pina shouted as she rode over to him, "I saw you got to your knees! Are you well?"

"I am fine." He said, standing up and picking up his sword "We need to return to the battle."

"Yes, about that." Pina pointed to the enemy's line, "I think one of the vampires is coming to us."

Erhardt followed her finger and saw what she was pointing at; a giant white furred ape like creature, easily the size of a small house, approached. It had six arms, each as thick as tree trunks, and huge teeth that did not fit in its mouth. Looking harder, Erhardt saw that, on its back, there was a humanoid figure, riding the monster from a saddle, reins in one hand, and halberd in the other. Raising its hands, it sent forth bolts of dark lighting, killing several State Troops.

"Oh, good." Erhardt said, "Not only a vampire, but a vampire riding some sort of zoo attraction, and me without a horse… Dammit."

He began to regret using that magical attack on the dragon earlier… this new monstrosity was going to be a _worse_ problem.The ape rushed his men, knocking them aside with every swing of its arms, and screeching a horrible shrill sound from its lungs.

"Fuck." Erhardt stated as he mounted a spare horse, "That thing is going break my formation unless its distracted."

"Do you have a plan?" Pina asked, riding up next to him.

"I've already used up my one attack for the day." Erhardt replied, "I dare not use it again, lest the death elemental tear my soul to shreds… You there!" he turned to one of his Reiksguard, "I have a mission for you. Go find us a battle wizard and bring them here to fight the vampire and its ape creature. We need spells for a monster of that size."

"At once!"

The knight saluted, and sped off on his horse. Erhardt then turned to Pina.

"We need to occupy that creature until the wizard can kill it." He stated, "Care to join me Princess?"

"You need not even ask."

===

The vampire, Cladius Von Carstein, directed his mount forward, and the monster tore into a line of halberdiers, ignoring their thrusts, and grabbing a man, before tearing him limb from bloody limb with its great hands.

"Face me vampire!" Erhardt shouted as he rode up to the ape monster, and slashed at an extended arm with his sword, cutting deep into its flesh, "Or have you Von Carsteins become cowards since the days of the Wars?"

"So, the Prince is here?" Cladius asked, leveling his gaze at Erhardt, "What a prize you will make for my master! You will make an excellent Wight! Kill him Netari!"

The ape, Netari, roared, and swung at Erhardt with a colossal fist. Erhardt moved his horse out of the way, and counterattacked with a swing of his sword, cutting into a great finger, and making it rear back and roar in pain.

"Circle it!" Pina shouted as she and the knights caught up to Erhardt, "But stay out of its reach!"

"Netari" Cladius screamed, drawing his own sword and equipping a shield, "Kill them all!"

The vampire then leaped off his mount, and jumped at Erhardt. Moving faster than any human, the Von Carstein vampire severed the legs of Erhardt's horse, sending the Prince tumbling to the ground. Erhardt was quickly back to his feet though, and charged Cladius, swinging at the vampire's head. Cladius brought up his shield, and struck back, aiming at Erhardt's heart.

His blade was deflected by Erhardt's plate, and the human prince shifted to his right, and brought down his arm, trapping the blade between it and his side. Then before the vampire could remove the sword, Erhardt leaned his head back, and slammed his skull faced helmet into Cladius' face. He felt cartilage break, and he smirked at Cladius' pained scream.

Cladius let go of the sword, and stumbled a few steps back.

"You broke my nose!" the vampire shouted, "You worthless boy-"

Erhardt did not let him finish. Instead, he ran the vampire through the chest with his sword. Erhardt then kicked at Cladius' left knee, breaking it, and forcing the vampire down.

"A boy I may be." Erhardt stated, gripping the blade of his sword with both hands, and raising it over his head, "But at least I'm not a pathetic leech like you.

"Morr wishes to speak you; I would be a poor servant to keep him waiting."

Erhardt then brought the blade down on Cladius' head, splitting the vampire's skull open.

"Abomination." Erhardt whispered as he removed his sword, his voice dripping with sheer disdain. He then turned his attention to the ape monster. With its master dead, surely it would fall… except it was still fighting. He saw Pina, who was no longer on her horse, bring her warhammer down on an arm, and then quickly getting out of the way whenever it swung a thick arm at her, while the other knights kept their distance.

Whatever magic that controlled it was still functional. Looks like they would need that wizard after all.

'Speaking of which.' Erhardt thought to himself as he looked back at his lines, 'Where is that wiz- '

He saw a mage in golden robes approach, staff raised, and clearly preparing to cast a spell. It was Ottmar, the senior wizard of Erhardt's army, and a magister of the Gold Order. The spell he was casting… it was one that Erhardt was very familiar with, having seen it cast a half-dozen times during the Siege of Alnus.

Searing Doom. A devastatingly effective spell that the Supreme Patriarch used to slay hundreds of men. However, it paid no heed to the difference between friend or foe… and Pina would be in the spell's area of effect.

Acting on instinct, Erhardt grabbed the fallen vampire's shield, and charged forward. The shield was one of the large and curved ones favored by Saderan legionaries, a scutum he had heard it called. He hoped it would be enough.

He dared not shout a warning, lest he distract her from the ape. Instead, he ran as hard as he could. Already, he saw the sky open, and the first drops of molten metal come down.

He finally reached her, grabbing her left shoulder, and pulling her close to him.

"Prince Erhardt, what are you-" she began, outraged at his improper conduct, and in any other situation, she would have been in the right.

Now however…

"Get down!" he shouted, bringing the scutum above their heads, and forcing both of them to their knees. No sooner had he done so, when the Searing Doom came down in all its power.

A rain of metal blanketed their corner of the battlefield, killing everything that it came into contact with. The ape monster bore the brunt of its power, burning through flesh and bone, and making it scream so loudly, Erhardt could swear that his ears were bleeding.

He felt the metal strike the shield, and he felt the intense heat beginning to burn his arm. Gritting his teeth, he kept the shield up, and worked through the pain, lest both he and Pina die.

Thankfully, for all its power, the Searing Doom was mercifully short. The rain stopped, and wasting no time, Erhardt threw his molten metal covered shield away, before then hastily removing the armor that covered his left arm, the one that held the scutum aloft.

"Fuck that hurt!" he cursed loudly, cradling his arm close to his chest as he laid on the ground, "Fucking wizard, fucking ape, fucking vampires fuck, fuck, fuck! I hope Sigmar smites all of those fucking-"

"I think that's the first time you've cursed in front of me." Pina joked as she removed her helmet, offering an apologetic smile as she knelt beside him, "Thank you, by the way."

"Well, it wouldn't do for one of my own wizards to kill you Princess." He said with a humorless smile, "I would be a poor ally."

"Yes… indeed."

He grunted as he stood up, "I need to find a War Priest to heal me quickly. The battle isn't over just yet."

"Here, let me help." Pina said as she grabbed his right arm and placed it over her shoulders, grabbing her discarded helmet and his now cooled gauntlet and vambrace in her other hand, "Let's go. One of the knights will loan us a horse."

Erhardt said nothing. Instead he looked at Pina, really looked at her. Her face was covered in battlefield grime, she had a few cuts and bruises below her eyes, and her long red braid was in desperate need of care.

In that instant, she had never looked more beautiful to Erhardt.

"Fuck." He whispered to himself.

* * *

"How many escaped?" Vanon asked his officers.

"The vampire leading this force for certain, along with several of the higher vampires." The elf replied, "When they saw that the battle was turning against them, they ran as fast as they could back to Elbe. The lower vampires and their thralls were left behind to stall our allies and us. Without the direction of their superiors, they were easily slaughtered. The Sigmarites are hunting down any stragglers that remain."

Tuka stood behind Vanon on the battlefield, only half listening to his subordinate's report. Instead, her attention was occupied, scanning the battlefield, and picking out the figures in the distance, trying to see if she recognized them.

There was Prince Erhardt's right hand, Siegfried, wading through the rotting gore as he directed state troops.

Princess Pina's Legionaries were gathering the dead, both recently living and recently shambling, and throwing them onto separate piles based on which allied army they belonged to, to be retrieved later by their respective countrymen, and the undead, which would simply be burned in a great pyre, lest the vampires reuse them.

Yao and her dark elf fighters were scouring the field, killing any undead that was still thrashing around, yet unable to stand.

Then there were Prince Erhardt's auxiliaries, his irregular soldiers pulled from the human and demihuman refugees. Even from this distance, Tuka could see that many of them were in a state of shock, some vomiting their breakfasts. This had been their first taste of battle, and it hit them to their core. Tuka could sympathize; she was exactly the same when the Flame Dragon burned her village.

Now, however, it seemed that the more she fought, the easier it became…

"We're finished here." Vanon said, "Gather our dead and wounded and return to camp. We'll let the humans clean up."

Some salutes, and the elves dispersed. Vanon turned on his heel and began walking back to camp, Tuka right beside him.

"How are you?" he asked, his normally even tone laced with concern.

"I'm fine." Tuka replied, "Truly. Fighting is becoming second nature to me."

"It's truly remarkable how easily you can adjust." Vanon stated, "As well as how quickly you can pick up skills. You're becoming quite good with a sword."

"Thank you…"

"You wish to say something?"

"Oh no, it's nothing urgent."

"The battle is over, and it will take ten minutes to get back to camp. You can talk to me, if you like."

"… A few weeks ago, you asked about our kings, my people's that is. I had the feeling that was more than just simple… curiosity. Then you began to speak of creating a new elven kingdom. Why? What interest is there in such an undertaking to you? Why would you take a risk on such an impossibility?"

Vanon was quiet for a minute, and Tuka was afraid that he would not say anything. It almost surprised her when he finally did speak.

"I hail from Ellyrion." He said, "I'm proud of my homeland, and all of Ulthuan."

"You have much to be proud of." Tuka said, with a hint of bitterness, "You have lands, castles, homes…"

"To see your people not have the security that mine do… it strikes me as a great injustice. An injustice that needs to be put right. The Asur have armies, weapons, and the tactics to make it so."

"How would you convince them in the first place though?" Tuka said, raising her voice a little in frustration, "Your people do not care about mine."

"That's not true. Yes, they can be arrogant at times-"

"Oh Vanon." Tuka interrupted wit ha sad smile, "We both know that your people have their own concerns. Helping mine is not even on the list. The Asur armies will never march on our behalf."

Tuka reached into a satchel and took out a wooden bracelet, carved with intricate designs. Slowly, she ran her fingers over it, looking forlorn.

"It's just our lot in life I suppose. To stay in the shadows, away from human eyes. That's what kept us alive. We may sing songs about our heroic rebels, but they all end the same; in death."

She looked up at Vanon with her big blue eyes, and stared directly into his own.

"I know you want to help us. But it's an impossible dream. It would be better if you just forgot it, and return to your Ellyrion."

Seeing his spirits plummet, Tuka lowered her gaze, returning it to her carved wristband.

"… That's quite a piece of craftsmanship you have there." Vanon said, changing the subject."

"Thank you. I carved it myself."

"You carved it? Once again, I'm impressed. The detail on that is quite beautiful."

"Thank you."

"It is that beauty that I want to protect."

She looked up at him again, curious by what he meant.

"You have a culture that is unique in this world Tuka. Thousands of years of traditions and customs… and I'm worried it will die out."

"What do you mean?"

"Look around you." He said, spreading his arms, indicating the battlefield before them, "What do you see? Whom was it we were fighting?"

"The undead."

"Yes, and who was it you fought alongside me last?"

"The Druchii, at the Archway."

"And before that?"

"The bandits at Italica, who were controlled by the, daemons, was it?"

"The one thing all these enemies have in common is that they are from my world. Somehow, Chaos daemons and vampires have managed to find a way to this world. If Prince Madir and the others fail to guard the Archway, then the Druchii will come through it and come here. All of these foes, they all wish to kill, to destroy, and to ruin. Your people may have survived the Saderans and all the humans before them, but can they survive enemies that are beyond mortals like the daemons, or live a cursed existence like the vampires, or who are cruelty incarnate, like the Druchii? Can they truly survive all that as they are now? Scattered, afraid, hiding in the woods?

"No… we probably would not." Tuka admitted, "We could last a few centuries, but in the end, I'm sure they would drive us into extinction… but your people-"

"Oh, hang what my people want." Vanon practically shouted, "If they refuse to help, then I will quit my post, and I shall go to each and every forest, and convince all of your people to unite myself."

"You're… you are that committed then?" she asked, "Why? Why would you ruin your career like that, for elves you do not even know?"

"My reasons… are not entirely altruistic. The Ruinous Powers and the vampire are in these lands, along with other mutations brought about by the Chaos Moon. A strong, united elven kingdom here could keep that in check.

"That is merely an added benefit though. In the end, your people, my people, we are all the children of Asuryan."

"How can you say that? My people do not even worship Asuryan."

"That does not change anything for me. I want to help, in whatever way I can. For they are your people, and you love your people… just as I love you."

He pulled her close and kissed her forehead, then resting his chin on the crown of her head.

"I know you are uncomfortable in Ulthuan, despite its many joys. Therefore, I want to make a home for you, here, and if the only way to do that is to unite your people into a single nation, well, then that is what I shall do, for you, and for our shared future."

Tuka actually laughed at that.

"I should have known that this was some sort of grand romantic gesture on your part. It's almost out of character for you."

"Perhaps, but we all have unexpected sides to us."

"Well… if you're willing to go to this, extreme length, to unite my people, then at the very least I can show you how to get to them."

"I appreciate that Tuka." He said with a smile, and a short laugh, "Cadai knows I am already out of my depth with this. Having the two of us together on this… well, it won't hurt our chances."

"The three of us." She said softly, almost a whisper.

"I beg your pardon?"

"There will be three of us Vanon."

"Who would the third be? Yao? I suppose having one of your world's dark elves with us would be proof of a united front-"

Tuka shook her head.

"I'm not talking about Yao." She said, "There will be you, me, and…"

She grabbed one of his hands, and placed it on her stomach. Vanon looked at her, greatly confused… until the gears in his head began to turn, and she saw his eyes widen in understanding.

"H-how long-"

"Two weeks now." She answered, "I was going to tell you after the vampires were dealt with, but I could not wait any longer…

"Vanon of Ellyrion, you are going to be a father."

* * *

"Morr's breath that hurt!" Erhardt cursed as his burn was being tended to.

"I'm surprised that your skin was not melted." Pina admitted as she applied the salve to his arm, "Whatever it was that your wizard cast, it looked hot enough to melt through flesh."

"It speaks well to not only the magical protection of my armor, but also to the skill of whoever made that shield I used." He said, wincing as her bare hands continued to rub, "Though, I am afraid it was probably just luck that we survived. We probably do not want to repeat that, lest our luck runs out."

"Ha! Agreed!"

Pina had helped Erhardt to the medical tents, only to discover that the Sisters of Shallya were already working past their capacity with far more serious cases. In comparison to severed limbs and stab wounds, Erhardt's burns were minor, and the Prince refused to be seen to before the more critical of his men had been tended to. Pina took him then to her army's medical tent, and furthermore, had acquired a special salve to be used to treat burns. Like in his camp though, all the healers were busy with more serious injuries.

So, Pina had decided to apply it to his burns herself, which was how the two royals had ended up in her tent alone, while he was completely bare chested. Were it not for the fact that she was still in full armor, and that they were both still covered in blood and other battlefield grime, one would jump to improper conclusions.

Not that it was any less awkward for Erhardt, nor for Pina, which was why Erhardt sat stiff as a spear in his chair, looking directly ahead, and a furiously blushing Pina kept trying to keep both of their minds off the fact that she, an unmarried princess, was touching the _bare_ arm of an unmarried prince.

"I must say, you're quite good at this." Erhardt stated.

"Yes well, when you grow up with a bunch of rowdy girls training to be knights, you earn more than your share of cuts and other injuries. There was one time where Bozes ended up with a broken nose on three separate occasions. Thankfully, healing magic was able to fix it in such a way that you could never tell it was broken to begin with!"

Erhardt chuckled to himself "Did you break anything in your wild youth?" he asked.

"I may have broken both several fingers on more than one occasion." She admitted, "But in my defense, I did not know how to fight someone wielding a greatsword taller than an orc."

"Sounds like quite a story." Erhardt said, "We should exchange more in the future."

"The future…" Pina whispered.

"Hmm? Did you say something?" Erhardt asked.

"After this war against your vampires is over Prince Erhardt, you and I need to speak about our futures… yours, and Sadera's, in a way that will benefit us all. But to do that, I will need you to do something for me."

"And, what exactly would that be?" Erhardt asked, suspicious.

She stood up, walked in front of him, and bent down so that they made eye contact.

"I need you to take me to your homeland, and to meet with you father, Emperor Karl Franz."

* * *

"I do not know what I expected." Mannfred said, seated on his throne, as he shook his bald head, "Clearly, I am to blame."

"My Lord-" the vampire who knelt before him began, only to be silenced by Mannfred, who sharply raised his hand, silencing the vampire.

"Yes, this must be my fault. I only bestowed upon you the blessed Blood Kiss, turning you from a weak, frail human insect, and into one of the Midnight Aristocracy. I only gave you power beyond that of mortal dreams… as well as an army, almost seventy-five thousand strong, and sent you against a foe that is weak, fragmented, and fears the blades of their allies as much as they fear our own; but, this is clearly my fault. I am to blame for this crushing defeat… for I allowed a groveling, weak, and utterly idiotic leech like yourself lead the army! A fool who turned tail and ran, at the first sign of danger!"

The audience winced at Mannfred's rising temper, and more than a few began to draw back into the shadows, lest their lord's anger be turned on them.

The Von Carstein Court had settled into the royal palace of Alguna, recently taken in a lightning assault, led personally by Mannfred and Remus. The human defenders had broken quickly, and the rat who called himself king quickly surrendered his crown to spare the lives of his people. The same king was then killed, and then raised from the dead to serve as Mannfred's personal footstool.

"But, I am a generous Lord." Mannfred then said, his temper disappearing so quickly it was almost jarring, "And a lesson has been learned. Now all that remains is forgiveness."

As he said this, Mannfred stood up from his throne, and approached the kneeling vampire, who cast his gaze downwards, clearly worried as to what Mannfred intended next, as the Lord of the Von Carsteins was infamous for the cruelty of his punishments.

Which was why the vampire was shocked when Mannfred gently placed his hand on his shoulder.

"You are forgiven for your failure." Mannfred said, "And I hope the lesson has been learned."

"I-I thank you master! It has, oh it- "

"I was not talking to you." Mannfred interrupted, then nodding his head at the crowd, "I was talking to them."

"What-"

Faster then a mortal eye could blink, Mannfred dug his sharp talon like nails into the vampire's neck, and quickly tore his head and part of his spine out of his body, spraying blood and gore everywhere.

"So…" Mannfred began, looking into the decapitated head's terror stricken and unblinking eyes before then placing his thumbs over them and pressed down, "Have you all learned your lesson?"

His question was directed at the other vampires. No response came from them. No response was needed. The point had been made.

"I thought as much." Mannfred stated as he threw the head to the side, and made his way back to his throne, leaning back and propping his feat up on his rotting footstool.

"Now that an example has been made, we must address the threat that marches on our door. An army of the living, Imperial, Saderan, elves, and mongrel mutants all, marches at us, wit the intent on ruining all we have built. My subjects, this cannot stand. Despite the dearly departed cowardice, the truth of the matter is that they did emerge victorious against him. We underestimate Prince Erhardt and Princess Pina's forces at our own risk. We are still shoring up our powerbase here in the south, and their interference can set us back months, perhaps years."

"My Lord," Remus said, stepping forward, accompanied by his Wight King father, "Send me, and I will smash the mortals, and bring their bodies to you. I promise to put an end to them, before they can interfere anymore."

Remus did not offer empty promises. Of all the newly turned Elban vampires, his conquests exceed all others. When he promised to destroy a city, he would do so. When he promised to bring Mannfred a mortal king alive, her would do so. A reliable warrior, but ambitious, and eager to stand closer to Mannfred than all others.

"In normal circumstances, I would grant you your request Remus." Mannfred said, "But these are no normal circumstances. We must put an end to their quant coalition as soon as possible. I've learned from experience that the best way to deal with a problem, is to simply do it yourself."

"Then you intend to lead an army north yourself Lord Mannfred?" Remus asked.

"Not an army Remus. All of our forces are to cease their current campaigns, and march north with me. Rather than wait for the mortals to come to us, with the occasional speedbump in the form of lackies, we shall instead stamp out this challenge to my power in one overwhelming strike. All we kill will rise again and serve me. Any who survive will tell the tale of our might, and our numberless army, and that story will travel far and wide across the continent. Terror will grip the hearts of our enemies, and entire kingdoms will lay down and surrender rather than be turned into undead slaves."

He stood again, spreading his arms wide as he did so.

"This battle will be our message to this world; that we are unstoppable, that even the guns of the Outlander Sigmarites are nothing to us, and that we will soon rule the world!"

Applause and cheers rang out through the hall, with all eager for blood. Such revelry was cut short, however, when the doors to the hall were dramatically swung open with such force, one of them fell off its hinges and collapsed to the floor.

Many of the hall's occupants were ready to attack the interloper, but quickly shrank back upon seeing whom it was.

There were two of them, with one standing a head taller than the other occupants in the hall. Both were clad in ornate, blood red plate armor, decorated with nightmare symbols, and fearsome dragons. Both projected an intimidating presence, but the taller one seemed to be murder and death personified.

The taller one walked forward, with his fellow a respectful pace behind, approaching Mannfred's throne. Remus then maneuvered so he blocked the duo's path, placing his hand on his sword while he was at it, staring the taller vampire in the eye.

The newcomer returned the gaze, completely unimpressed. Where Remus was tense, the newcomer's body was relaxed, unconcerned.

"Move." He said, in a tone so chilling, Remus flinched involuntarily, "I want to talk to Von Carstein."

Remus stood his ground however; for the next five seconds, before stepping aside. The duo continued on, only halting when they were at the foot of Mannfred's throne.

"Von Carstein." The tall one said, "It has been a while."

"Walach Harkon." Mannfred said, "Finally back from touring Falmart?"

"Yes, quite a trip if I do say so myself." The Grand Master of the Blood Dragons replied, "I see you've finally began conquering the locals."

"A blind man could see that." Mannfred replied, "What are you doing here Harkon? I thought you didn't want anything to do with my new world order?"

"I don't." came Harkon's blunt response, "But I hear tell of a coalition of men, both Imperial and Saderan, with elves and demihumans as well, marching south to fight you."

"You are correct. I intend to deal with them shortly."

"If that is the case Mannfred, then I would like to lead your vanguard."

Mannfred raised a hairless brow, "You have no wish to be a part of the world I am building here, but you offer to fight my enemies anyway?"

"I am of Abhorash, Von Carstein." Harkon said, "I live for the fight; and I am in need of a battle to blood my new followers."

"New followers… oh." Mannfred smiled, "Well now, that is interesting. Are they with you?"

Harkon nodded and snapped his fingers. Two dozen or so figures entered the hall. Most were human, but there were also a handful of elves, along with other demihumans. All were dressed in red plate armor, similar to Harkon's plate.

"May I present to new Order of the Blood Dragon." Harkon said, "Accept my request Von Carsten, and we will destroy the enemy for you."

Mannfred smiled.

"I would be a fool to say no."

* * *

 _The North_

"Kalterina!"

The rabbit turned her attention away from sharpening her knives, and met the gaze of one of Ubbe's huskarls.

"What do you want?" she snapped, "I'm busy."

"King Ubbe has called a meeting of all senior warriors. He expects you to attend."

"Fine." She spat, placing her knife back in her sheath, "But this had better be important."

The huskarl nodded, and led the way, Kalterina following.

As they made their way through the camp, many warriors, human and rabbit alike, respectfully parted to allow them through. Kalterina paid it no mind. After all, it was the respect that she was due.

Two more huskarls stood before the doors of the longhouse. Upon seeing her, they nodded respectfully, and opened the way for her.

She saw many of their most seasoned warriors had gathered around the throne, mostly Aesling, but several of her kin stood alongside them as well. Seated upon the throne was Ubbe himself, a sword in one hand, and an infant warrior rabbit in the other. Kalterina's expression softened at the sight of their daughter, before quickly returning to her warrior mindset, and taking her place alongside her man, for she was both leader of the warrior rabbits, and the mother of his new children.

"Glad you could join us Kalterina." Siggy, the tribe's Vitki, and the other mother of Ubbe's other children, commented from the other side of the throne, "Now we may begin."

The rabbit grunted, but said nothing else. Siggy was constantly grating her nerves, but was ultimately harmless… to her at least. Kalterina had seen the vitki tear the skin off of men with just the power of her voice, as well as turn a rival sorcerer's tongue into a snake, which then bit him to death.

Yes, Kalterina would let her comments slide, for it was better to bear it than to make an enemy out of the powerful vitki.

"Now that we are all gathered," Ubbe said, "It is time to begin. We have built a settlement here, in this green land. We have grown stronger by fighting the beasts and monsters of this island. We have taken in the tribes of the plains warriors, took them into our beds, and have both emerged stronger for it! For almost two years, we have waited patiently, the soft men of the south unaware of our existence. That ends today."

"So, the sorcerer has decreed that now is the time to march?" a tattooed man with a crab claw for a hand asked.

"The old fool has finally decided to unleash us, as if we are his pet lapdogs." Ubbe said, spitting, "We may leave this island on his orders, but those will be the last orders he shall ever give us."

Kalterina heard several warriors make agreeable comments to her man's words. It seems he was getting them motivated.

"The old fool and his cabal believe that they manipulate us." Ubbe continued, "That we exist merely to do their bidding for their long plan. I say, that they are wrong!"

Some began to cheer at this.

"The fools may have directed us to this gate, and to this world, but no longer will we be content to be pawns in their game! We may leave the island now, but the battles to come will be fought on our terms. We will raid where we will, we will kill who we want, and we will take cities and treasure by the dozens! We will kill the soft Saderans, the weak and misguided Sigmarites, those frail high elves, and anyone else foolish enough to stand against us!"

He stood, and held his sword aloft, pointing it into the air.

"And while we tear down the 'civilization' they had built here, I will erect a mountain of skull, in offering to the Hound! Come, to the longboats!"

More cheers, louder this time, as the warriors left the hall, blood eager for killing. Ubbe passed of their daughter to a thrall, who bowed and left, leaving the Aesling King and his women alone.

"A rabbit warrior with Aesling blood." He commented, "Your people won't know what will hit them in a few decades."

"Out of curiosity husband," Siggy said, "What did old Bruno wish for us to do for him?"

Ubbe spat again at the mention of the Old Man's name.

"He ran into some trouble with the undead." He said "No glory in killing something that already died once; but enough about the old fool! Come my wives, glory awaits!"

He began to move to the exit, singing a song under his breath.

 _"My mother told me, that one day I would buy… galley with good oars… sail to distant shores. Stand up high in the prow, noble barque I steer. Steady course for the haven, hew many foe-men. Hew many foe-men."_

"Well," Siggy began, shall we join him?"

Kalterina scoffed, "Need you even ask?"

A week later, they set out. Three hundred longships left the harbor, red and black sails unfurling, displaying the sea serpent symbol of Ubbe, along with the Eight-Pointed Star, while other ships dedicated their sails to a specific god, though the Hound, Khorne, was the most popular by far.

Hanging onto the dragon-head of his flagship, Ubbe laughed like a madman as the saltwater hit his face.

" _Up onto the overturned keel_!" he shouted, loud enough so that not only the people on his own ship heard him, but so did the ones sailing the closest to him, " _Clamber with a heart of steel_!"

" _Cold is the ocean's spray_." many of his warriors, Kalterina included, joined him, " _And your death is one it's way. With maidens you have had your way… Each must die one day_!"

* * *

 _One week after the battle, Coalition Camp_

Pina left the strategy meeting quite pleased with herself. If she were not a princess, one might say that she had a bounce to her step.

More and more, she found that she was enjoying these strategy meetings. For years, she and her Rose Knights had been relegated to mere honor guard, something that the Emperor could take out of his box and parade around to impress visitors.

Now, however? Now she had seen more fighting in the last half year than in all the years before her combined. She had legions under her command, men who she fought alongside, and bled alongside. She was becoming the woman she had always dreamed of growing up to be. Not even her father's increasingly dishonorable letters cold tarnish her joy. In addition to her growing confidence, so too did her… friendship with the Reikland Prince.

She had not elaborated further in regards to her plans the night they returned from battle, when she had asked him to take her to his father. She promised to tell all after the vampires were dealt with. In the meantime, they had taken to enjoying one another's company. When on the march, they would ride beside one another. When making camp, the two of them oversaw the fortifications. When it was time to eat, they dined together. Afterwards, he would sing songs of his homeland, and she would recite the poetry of the masters. He would regale her with tales of Sigmar Unberogen, the Ur-Emperor, and she in turn would tell of the Dragon-Emperor, Old Sader.

She enjoyed his company, and he hers. Before the campaign, she knew better than to get too close, for theirs was an alliance of convenience. When the threat was defeated, they would return to being enemies. An unfortunate truth, but one she had accepted. Now though? She did not want to be his enemy. All she wanted was peace, and an end to the war. She wanted her father to return to the stern yet loving man he was in her childhood. She wanted to serve her Empire as a knight, with honor and dignity.

Not all such things were possible though. She would take what she could get however. For now, she'd settle for peace.

"Productive evening?" a voice asked from the darkness.

Pina turned around and came face to face with Voland, Captain of the Venators, one of Erhardt's mercenaries.

"It is not wise to startle a Princess of Sadera Captain." She said, adopting an edge to her tone, "What is it that you want?"

"Straight to business. Good, I like that." Voland said as he stepped forward, "Not here though. My tent. We can speak freely there."

"And why should I go anywhere with you, without my guards?"

"Because I have the solution to your problem little girl."

"And what problem would that be?"

"You want a bargaining chip for negotiations with the Sigmarites. I happen to know their dirty little secrets. Interested in finding out?"

She said nothing, letting his words sink in instead. He took notice and turned around.

"Come to my tent in an hour, then we'll talk."

With that, he disappeared into the camp, leaving Pina alone. What could a mercenary like him possibly know about the Sigmarites? He was a common sellsword… but a sellsword from the other side of the Gate. What if something that was common knowledge in their world turned out to be a trump card for her? Information on the other side was sparse, as the Sigmarites kept such information close to their chests. What little her agents had gathered came from the drunken ramblings of the state troops.

It was risky... but one that she was willing to take.

* * *

"So, you actually showed up." Voland commented as he drank an expensive Kislev spirit, "Good. Then we can begin."

Pina closed the tent flap behind her. Dressed in a brown cloak, Pina had come alone to the mercenary camp. For protection, she had brought a stiletto dagger, and had already used it once tonight to ward off a drunken would be paramour.

"I came here for information Captain." She replied, taking a seat across from him, "How much I'm willing to pay for it depends on how useful it is."

"Oh, I assure you, it is useful." Voland said as he propped his muddy boots up on a wooden table, "Probably could change the course of your little war. First things first though; the matter of my payment. I'll take ten thousand gold pieces for starters-"

"Oh, just ten thousand?"

"The next part is simple for you; I want me and my boys to make our new base of operations here."

"Why would you want to settle here?"

"New world, fresh start, and I've pissed off an army of people in the past. I mean, you have seen the way those Lady-Botherers were looking at me, haven't you?"

"Lady-Botherers?"

"The Bretonnians, what with their chivalry and all. Bah! They're just jealous because me and my boys beat them at their own tourney! It's a long story, but not important. What is important, is that my demands are more than worth the information I am going to give you."

"I'm not convinced." Pina said, "Give me something first, something that will convince me that what I am paying for is worthwhile."

"You want proof then? Alright, I can give you proof. I want you to take a good, long look at me."

"What game is this?"

"No game. Just look at my face, really take it in."

Pina let out a disgusted grunt, but did as Voland said anyway, leaning forward in her chair. As he was now, Voland was not a handsome man, but perhaps in the past he had been. There was something strange about his facial features though… something that she just could not put her finger on. Some features looked familiar however, but where had she seen them before-

Her eyes widened as the answer came to her. She opened her mouth, but no words emerged from it. Instead, the truth, unpleasant as it was, came to her.

Voland had a resemblance to Erhardt.

"Ah." Voland started, leaning back in his chair, "So you see now? He had a lot of his mother in him, but Erhardt still looks a bit like his dear uncle Voland, doesn't he?"

"Uncle…" she said, "You are Erhardt's uncle? How? Why?"

"Emperor Luitpold was a bit of a domestic tyrant." Voland said, "Rigid and uncompromising. But even for such a straight-laced fellow, he had his vices. One of them was pretty girls, such as dear old mum. That's where I come from; an illicit night of passion. Now, harsh taskmaster he may have been, but Luitpold took me in, put a roof over my head, food in my belly, and even an education in both academics and the battlefield. Naturally, I took to killing better than philosophizing, though I was good with numbers; served me well as a mercenary later in life whenever payday came around.

"You don't want to hear about my past though." Voland said, "You wanted proof that I know what the hell I'm talking about. Well, I should that being the bastard brother of the Emperor should be proof enough. Now, do you accept my terms, or not?"

Pina nodded, "You will have your gold, as well as the right to establish yourselves in Sadera."

"Good, then let's get fucking started. First, what do you know about the Empire's military strength?"

"Your people have powerful weapons. Gunpowder alone has killed thousands of legionaries. When the initial invasion force went through the Gate, they were defeated utterly. The Empire's military is not to be underestimated-"

Voland began to laugh.

"Do I amuse you Sir?" Pina asked testily.

"A bit." Came Voland's reply, "Ranald's balls, they have you fooled, don't they?"

"They?"

"The Empire I mean. They've made you all think that they're an unstoppable fighting force just because they have a few guns."

"The battles Sadera has already fought-"

"Were because you didn't have the slightest clue what you were getting into. So, I'm going to tell you the thing that Erhardt desperately doesn't want you to know;

"The Empire is weak."

"You expect me to believe that?"

"Shut up and listen; your provinces… they all bow down to the might of Sadera, don't they?"

"Yes."

"And the Emperor is the undisputed master of all he surveys?"

"Yes."

"And Sadera is the uncontested master of the entire continent?"

"Yes, what are getting at?"

"Heh, heh, heh…" Voland laughed, "What I'm 'getting at' is that the Empire is not nearly as powerful, or organized as you have been led to believe. The provinces are all practically independent, and if an Elector is feeling brave enough, he can tell the Emperor to shove it where the sun doesn't shine. Your first destroyed army? Taken down by the combined might of several provinces, working together. United, the Empire is strong, but divided, and they crumble easily; and believe me, the Empire is more divided than it is united. It is also dwindling; taking Alnus Hill and the surrounding countryside is a massive strain on resources and manpower. Little Erhardt cannot afford to keep expanding. He just doesn't have the manpower.

"Which leads me to my most damning truth; the Empire is surrounded by enemies. You remember your first army that went through the Gate? Well, it had to misfortune to run headfirst into the mother of all Beastmen Warherds. It would have laid waste to the countryside if your people didn't crash into them. You see, Beastmen live in the forests, that's their territory. Any man who goes in gambles with their life; and the Empire is, oh, perhaps seventy percent forest… you could say that the Empire actually belongs to the Beastmen, and not humans.

"Of course, Beastmen are but one of the worries our 'great' Emperor has to deal with. Then there's the greenskins; huge hulking masses of muscle and brutality, who think war is a jolly good time. There's the undead, which you are quite familiar with by now, there's the daemon worshiping northmen who come raiding, the dark elves who prey upon the coastline, and, though no one is willing to admit it, there's an entire empire of ratmen underneath our feet, millions upon millions of the vermin, and if they ever got motivated, they could probably overrun the world in a decade, maybe less.

"The point I'm trying to make, Princess, is this; your Sadera has a larger army, more resources, is far more secure, and is otherwise in a better position than the Sigmarite Empire, which is internally divided, surrounded by enemies, and whose most recent successful expansion is a single hill in another world. Their only defense against you is a single undermanned fort on a hill, and the illusion that they're bigger and stronger than they really are. I just shattered that illusion for you. If you want, I can shatter more things for you in the future?"

"Such as?" Pina asked warily.

"Well, after the Von Carsteins are dealt with, no doubt your father is going to want to send in another invasion… and invasion that's going to be far more successful than the last two no doubt. You have numbers and unity on your side… but you are going to need inside information. Information that I can provide."

"You… you would assist an invasion against your own people? Your own family?"

"The Griffon Princes of Altdorf are not my family; I'm bastard born, remember? To them, I'm not even fit to breath in the same room as them. My family, and my people are the Venators, not stuck up Reiklanders, who are eager to get into a fight but less willing to see it through. Plus, if you're out to conqueror the whole continent, eventually you'll attack Bretonnia; I have a few scores to settle there as well. For now, though, I'll settle on my money, and the right to operate in Saderan territory. That is, if you found my information worthwhile. Have you?"

"You'll have your payment." Pina almost hissed, disgusted by the man in front of her, "And I will think on what you have said."

"I'll be here." Voland replied with a smirk.

* * *

After storming to her tent, Pina paced back and forth, internally debating what to do. She had wanted information, and now she had it. Should she return to Sadera with it, her father would no doubt raise the legions, and assault Alnus Hill. Having learned from the mistakes of the Vassal Kingdom's assault, the legions would eventually prove victorious, taking Fort Griffon, and the Gate. They would then sweep into the Sigmarite Empire, and the war would rage for years. Thousands, tens or even hundreds of thousands would perish, the Sigmarites not giving an inch, dying to the last, all the while the beastmen, greenskins, and worse would attack the legions, killing more and more men. Even is Sadera could claim victory, such a victory may prove to be at too high a cost…

Even knowing this, Pina was conflicted still. She had her duty to Emperor and Empire, and delivering this information would make her father forget all about his previous instructions of having her seduce, marry, and then kill Erhardt… Peace with the Empire though, would save countless lives, especially with new threats seemingly emerging every day.

What to do? How best to serve Sadera? What would her father, the old him, before he lost his scruples, had done? War, or peace? What would he had done? What would Old Sader had done?

For an hour, she debated internally with herself, trying to decide as to what her role models would have done… until a revelation came to her.

Perhaps she should stop thinking about what the men of the past would have don, and decide on what she wanted to do. What did she think was for the best for Sadera?

She clenched her fists, and straightened her back. She knew now; she knew what she was going to do.

* * *

"Prince Erhardt, Princess Pina is asking to see you." A Reiksguard announced while Erhardt reread a field report.

"This late?" he asked, "Very well then, send her in."

The Reiksguard nodded and stepped out, letting Pina, still garbed in her brown cloak, inside, her golden circlet, placed upon her brow, the only proof of her royal blood.

"Princess, to what do I owe the honor?" Erhardt asked as he set the report down on his table, "Something you forget to bring up at the meeting earlier?"

"No, nothing concerning the coming battle." Pina said, "I have something I need to tell you."

"I see… this must be important then."

"It is. I just want you to know that, whatever happens, I am loyal to my homeland. I would do anything, and I mean anything, to see it survive. Even if that means going against the will of Emperor Molt Sol Augustus."

"That's…" Erhardt began, shocked by what he was hearing, "What you're saying is…"

"It is treasonous in nature, I know." She stated, "But my father may not have Sadera's best interests in his heart. I believe that I do. Which is why I am utterly dedicated to bringing peace between our two Empires, Prince Erhardt, to spare countless lives… and to ensure that you and I will never become enemies."

"I… appreciate your honesty, and your trust in me; it cannot have been an easy decision to come to me with this."

"I thank you." She said, "And no, it was not an easy decision to make, but the righteous decisions rarely are. However, that is not the only reason I came to you this night."

As she spoke, Pina closed the distance between the two of them. Erhardt noticed, and tried his best to not appear flustered at her physical proximity.

"Really?" he began, "Then may I ask what is your other reason then-"

He was cut off when Pina grabbed both his face with both her hands and kissed him on the lips. It was deep, passionate, and Erhardt, eyes wide at this turn of events, was so taken by surprise that he offered no resistance when he felt her tongue enter his mouth.

When she pulled back, her face was almost as red as her hair, and she was panting almost as heavily as he was.

"Though I am a knight, I am also still a maiden." She began, resting her hands on his shoulders, "And I intend to remain one until the day I am wed… but the Von Carsteins… we could all be dead tomorrow. If the gods decide that I am to die, then so be it, but I would know something before they take me."

"A-and what would that be?" he stuttered. The only thing that allowed him to speak was the fact that she seemed to be as embarrassed as he was right now.

"If I am to die in battle, then I would know what it is like to sleep beside a man that I care for. I would know what it is like to be held by a man who cares for me in return.

"Prince Erhardt… would you do me this service?"

Erhardt could not speak. No words came past his lips, not matter how much he tried. Instead, he merely nodded, and that was all the answer that was required.

They kissed again, and disrobed. Within a few minutes, the two young royals were in Erhardt's bed, trying to calm their rapidly beating hearts at the close proximity to one another. Eventually however, tiredness overcame the both of them, and they drifted off to a pleasant sleep in each other's arms.

What transpired within the tent, however, did not go unnoticed by one.

Siegfried stood outside the tent. He had intended to speak to Erhardt, only to arrive outside the tent in the middle of the private conversation. He had heard what was said, and shook his head in frustration, before turning to leave.

"That damned fool." He whispered under his breath, "Both of them. This is not going to end well."


	11. Chapter 11

_Many years ago, Altdorf_

 _"How is he?" Karl Franz, Prince and Emperor, asked the Sister of Shallya as she began to leave the room._

 _"The danger has passed, and the Prince is resting now." she said, shaking her head sorrowfully, "Not surprising, considering what happened. He will live though; the magical control that she-"_

 _"It."_

 _Empress Charlotte Franz nee Falkenhayn, Princess of Altdorf and Reikland, stormed imperiously through the open door, murder in her eyes._

 _"That thing was a vampire, not a woman. Therefore it is an it." she said, glaring daggers at the Sister._

 _"O-of course Your Majesty." the Sister said, nervously bowing her head, "I meant no offense."_

 _"You do not offend me." Charlotte said sternly, before then running a hand through her long black locks, "I apologize Sister. It has been a long night. Thank you for helping my son."_

 _"I am humbled your Majesty. I live to do the Dove's work. Goodnight your Majesty."_

 _With that, the Sister left Emperor and Empress alone. Once she was out of sight, Regina closed the door to the room, and quickly made her way to the bed. Laying there was a young boy, ten years of age. His skin was deathly pale, and his breathing labored._

 _Charlotte, losing all of her edge, quickly walked to her son's bed, and knelt beside him, taking his hand in hers._

 _"Oh my darling boy..." she whispered, "My darling son... look how she hurt you."_

 _Squeezing his hand, she turned to look at Karl, murder in her gaze._

 _"You find her Karl." she stated in a tone that allowed no argument, "You find her, and you make her suffer for what she did, for what she tried to do. I want the Templars to torture her, to make that undead slattern scream in agony. I want them to inflict such pain upon her, that the Ruinous Powers will hear her screams, and know of the folly of trying to hurt my children, and even they shall be afraid."_

 _Karl said nothing, but nodded, and left the room, leaving his wife and son behind._

 _He was going vampire hunting._

* * *

Erhardt slowly opened his eyes, and stared at the ceiling of his tent. It had been years since he last dreamed of that night, and the aftermath that followed.

"Are you alright?"

He turned his head and came face to face with the questioning red eyes of Pina, his bed mate for the evening.

"A bad dream." he said, reaching a hand out and pushing some of her thick red hair behind her ear, "It's nothing."

"You were muttering in your sleep." she said, and Erhardt froze, "It was in your language, but you kept saying a name over and over again... Matilda."

"I do not wish to speak of it." he said plainly.

"Oh... I see. i apologize if I gave offense."

"No need for apologies; I just do not enjoy speaking of that."

"I see..."

With that, Erhardt had just made an already awkward situation even more awkward; quite a feat, considering he was in bed with the princess of what was technically an enemy empire.

"I should probably return to my own tent soon." Pina said as she pulled closer to him, "Bozes is probably worried about me."

"You two seem like old friends." Erhardt commented.

"We are. She and I were inseparable as children, and she was my first recruit for the Rose Knights. I trust her completely."

"Enough to tell her where you were last night?"

"Yes."

"Really?" Erhardt said with a raised eyebrow, "Trust like that is not common in our circles."

"Have you not a confidante that you can rely on?"

"I do... in most things. Not all things though. It is not that I do not trust Siegfried, it is merely that I am a private individual."

"Will you tell him about tonight?"

"Ugh... I will, if only that he probably already knows. He's quite clever like that."

"What do you think he'll say?"

"He'll probably scold me; I have a weakness for girls with long red hair after all."

"Oh?" Pina said playfully, "So that's the reason you always undress me with your eyes whenever we speak."

"I-I do not!" Erhardt denyed, a furious blush on his face.

"A jest my good Prince." she said, "I'm glad you like my hair; I'm quite proud of it as well."

To emphasize her point, she flipped her braid so that it rested on her shoulder.

"Tell me something," she began, "What is your father like? Not as an Emperor, but as a man... as a father."

"My father is stern, and not one for casual displays of affection." Erhardt admitted, "But he is the finest man in the Empire, and my brothers and I all look up to him. For years, I wanted to be him, especially after... after I turned ten."

Pina wrapped an arm around his shoulder and laid her head on his chest. That was the second time he sounded concerned about something, and she'd swear by Old Sader that whatever it was, it was related to this 'Matilda' woman. She was not a jealous woman; she knew that, whatever it was that the two of them had, it would not last past this war... even if the best possible outcome came to pass. Still, she wanted to know what happened to him, but she respected his privacy, so she did not pry, no matter how much it scratched at the back of his mind.

"What about your father? What is he like?"

"My father... he was a source of joy in my childhood." she said, "I was a child of a concubine you see, but despite that, he made me a full princess of the blood. He could be harsh, even cruel at times, when he destroyed his enemies, bu he never let his darker side affect our relationship. He may have been Molt, Emperor of Sadera, and terror of the world... but he was my father, and I loved him dearly."

"You keep saying that in past tense, but isn't Emperor Molt still alive?"

"... Not the man I knew."

"Oh..." was all Erhardt could say. Clearly, something bad had happened between Pina and her father, and Erhardt was intelligent enough to put together that her sudden desire to sleep beside him was tied to that. Like her though, he was far too polite to pry further. Instead, he changed the subject.

"Pina... I know you want to see my father... and I know you promised to tell me everything after the Von Carsteins are dead, but what if, while we were in Altdorf, I showed you around the city?"

"Oh, a private tour? You flatter me. What is Altdorf like?"

"Well, I will not lie; it smells terrible in the summer, and if Italica is anything to go by, it isn't nearly as beautiful as your people's cities... but it has a grim charm to it, and it has been my home for all my life. To me, it is the greatest city in the world."

"Well, in return I shall have to show you Sadera." she replied, "The sights and grand buildings of the city put the entire continent to shame..."

* * *

It shouldn't have been possible. There was just no way it could have been... yet it was.

He was going to be a father.

Seated in his favorite chair, Vanon looked at the sleeping Tuka, who was blissfully unaware at the questions that kept him from sleep.

He was going to be a father. He should be glad. He always wanted to be a father after all, and after he met Tuka, he knew that she was the one he wanted to have children with... but it should not have been this easy.

The younger races may not know, but it took considerable energy and effort for an elf male to impregnate an elf woman, and then it would take several years for the child to remain in the womb... yet that was not the case for Tuka's people. They became pregnant as easily as human women, and had a pregnancy just as swift.

That was what worried Vanon; what would happen to his child? How long would it remain in its mother's womb? If it remained as long as an Asur, then could Tuka's body take it? Would she be able to survive, or would the child harm its mother unintentionally?

Did he just kill Tuka?

"Oh Isha..." he whispered, "Oh help me... I know not what I am to do."

"Sounds as if you could use some help."

Sitting up within a half second, and drawing a dagger, Vaon turned to face the newcomer, who was hiding in the shadows.

"Who are yo, and how did you get past my guards?" he demanded, "Speak, before I remove you from here!"

"Quite protective now that you have a child on the way, aren't you Vanon of House Aenar?"

"H-how do you know that-"

"That you have, quite recklessly, created the first Asur/Falmart elf hybrid?" the elf walked out of the shadows, "It is almost impressive at how hard you threw caution to the wind Captain."

Vanon dropped his dagger as he saw who the elf was, and he felt that his heart almost stopped.

In his tent was one of the two most famous elves in all Ulthuan; the High Loremaster Himself, Prince Teclis. the Warden of the White Tower, instantly recognizable by both the Staff of Lileath, and the War Crown of Saphery.

The most powerful mage since Caledor Dragontamer himself, he who defeated the Witch King at the Finuval Plain, Teclis himself, was standing in his tent.

"Y-your Lordship!" Vanon stuttered, dropping to one knee, "I am honored and humbled to be in your presence."

"Huh, rarely do elves kneel in my presence." Teclis commented, "That's usually reserved for my brother. People I surprise usually tell me to 'piss off!' instead. If you're going to continue though, I won't dissuade you, but at least look me in the eyes, I dislike having conversations with the tops of people's heads."

"Of course your Lordship." Vanon raised his head, but kept his voice soft, as he did not wish to wake Tuka, "What may I do to assist you High Loremaster?"

"Well, you're probably wondering what I'm doing here, in your tent, in another world."

"The question... has coem to mind."

"Well, the divination magics available at the White Tower are the best in the world; it was revealed to us that you had impregnated your ladyfriend... Tuka was it?"

"Yes, that is her name."

"Good. In any case, you and I both know that Lady Tuka's race is quite different from ours, in both lifespan and ability; and yet, despite that, you have, as the humans say, 'placed a roll in her stove.' If your restlessness is anything to go by, you are concerned about the true nature of your out-of-wedlock hybrid offspring... and so am I.

"You see, since you and Lady Tuka have no self control, you have created new life... a new life who changes everything we thought we once knew.

"So, with that being said," Teclis tapped his staff to the ground, "Let's find out just what sort of potential freak of nature you've spawned. Do you want to wake her up, or should I?"

* * *

"Hmmm…" the elf grunted as he placed a hand on Tuka's bare stomach.

Tuka had awoken a minute ago when someone tapped her on the shoulder and told her to get up. At first she had thought it was Vanon, and that they were under attack. As it turned out, it was an elf in a strange hat, holding a staff, and who was currently examining her as if she were a horse at a Ellyrian market.

It was so strange that she couldn't even slap his hands away. So instead, she decided to question the father of her future child, who was standing in the corner of their tent, completely transfixed.

"Vanon." She started, "Who is this, and why is he poking at me?"

"He is the Warden of the White Tower, a Champion of Ulthuan, the greatest mage-"

"Greatest mage since Caledor Dragontamer, etc, etc." the elf said as he removed his hand from her stomach and stood up, "You can call me Loremaster Teclis."

"Alright… why has _Loremaster Teclis_ , whom I assume is an important person, woken me up first thing in the morning, and has laid his hand on my stomach while chanting?"

"Because you, Lady Tuka, a Falmart elf, are pregnant with the child of Captain Vanon, an Azur of Ulthuan." Teclis explained as he grabbed a waterskin from his waist and took a swig, "Naturally, this interests me."

"But why?" Tuka asked, still incredulous. What was so special about her baby after all?

"There are physical differences between your people and our own." Teclis explained, "For example, were you aware that Asur women take great effort to become pregnant, and then carry their children for close to two years?"

"What!" Tuka almost shouted, looking at Vanon, who seemed incredibly nervous, "Two years? I- how- what-"

"Tuka, I am so sorry." Vanon said, shaking his head, "So very sorry…"

"Precisely." Teclis stated, ignoring Vanon, "However, from what I understand when I spoke to the lovely Lady Yao Haa Dushi earlier, the pregnancies of your people only last for nine to ten months, is that correct?"

"Y-yes." Tuka answered, still shocked.

"Well, I'm trying to ascertain if the differences between our two tribes of elves will cause either you or your baby harm. So far, I see no issue, but I would require my laboratory and my instruments to learn more."

"W-well… I thank you for looking into this." Tuka almost whispered, "But… why would you care about me? I'm not asur."

"Why?" Teclis parroted, "Well, officially, Teclis the High Loremaster is making sure that both mother and child survive, for should both of them make it through the pregnancy, they would usher in a new era for both our peoples. This could change Ulthuan and solve our population crisis."

"That isn't the real reason though?" Vanon asked, for the first time speaking up.

"Perceptive; that is part of the reason, and the explanation that I will be giving to my peers at the White Tower in Saphery." Teclis said, then turned to Tuka, resting a hand on her shoulder, "The truth of the matter is much, much, simpler. I merely wish to see the child born healthy, and the mother survive. No more, no less. Everything else is, as the humans say, "gravy." At least, that is what I think they say; it might have changed in the past few centuries…"

Looking wistful, Teclis moved his free hand to his waterskin and took another drink.

"I see…" Tuka said, a ghost of a smile on her face, "Thank you. You're the first asur who has treated me with kindness since my dear Vanon's family and the Everqueen. Even if you are a bit… blunt."

"Yes, well, I've a soft spot in my heart for people that my kinsmen would look down their nose at." Teclis said, "Though you are welcome."

"How did you know about my pregnancy though?" Tuka asked, "I only found out a few days ago myself?"

"The High Loremaster said that the divinations at the White Tower led him to us." Vanon explained, "It's amazing to think about-"

"Oh that?" Teclis interrupted, "Apologies, I seem to have given you the wrong idea; while my divinations did lead my brother and I to Falmart, I actually just found out a few hours ago from one of your archers."

"The archers… oh!" Vanon started, "Oh yes, I did tell my soldiers that I was going to be a father, and we celebrated for a bit…"

"Apologies again, but I am here for another reason, one that may very well rip this continent apart in a tide of war."

"Is it the vampires that you speak of?" Vanon asked, "They seem to fit the description of what you are looking out for."

"True Captain, but prophecy is rarely so straightforward." Teclis explained, "It's rather like attempting to a read a book through greased spectacles, while the ink has been smudged; a challenge to comprehend either way."

"I see." Vanon said, looking at the ground. Then his eyes widened.

"I beg a moment High Loremaster; you said that your divination led you _and_ your brother to us… does that mean that-"

"Teclis, are you in here?"

The tent flap opened, and Tuka saw another elf step in. This one was tall and possessed broad shoulders. He was clad in the finest armor Tuka had ever seen, and on his hip, was a mighty sword that radiated magic.

This was a prince among elves, and at the mere sight of him, Vanon began to do his best impression of a deer in torchlights; unmoving and unblinking, with his mouth open in shock.

"I awaken in our tent only to find you no where to be found." The newcomer said, "Bad enough that no sooner had we returned from the Southlands, then you rush us here to another world. I do not need you running off in the middle of the night."

"Apologies brother." Teclis said in a tone that implied he wasn't really sorry, "But I did say that someone needed to announce our presence so our arrival would not take them completely by surprise."

"That is the work of heralds brother." Tyrion, the Defender of Ulthuan, said as he rolled his eyes, "And considering how everyone acted in shock upon my arrival, I believe it would be safe to assume that you had forgotten to tell them that I was coming as well."

"I was getting around to it." Teclis deflected wit ha wave of his hand, "Something of great importance came up; namely the lady Tuka's pregnancy."

Tyrion shifted his gaze from his brother to Tuka. Tyrion then took off his helmet and did a bow to her.

"Lady Tuka, I apologize for entering your tent without invitation." He said, "And for any offense my brother may have caused you in the short time you have known him."

"Oh there's nothing to apologize for." Tuka said, blushing with slight embarrassment. She was not used to asur treating her with such courtesy, especially ones as handsome as Tyrion.

"You are too kind." Tyrion said with a smile and a nod, then turned to Vanon, "Captain, though it is not my intent to be discourteous, I must insist that you take me to the other commanders of this allied army, immediately."

"Of course, Prince Tyrion." Vanon said, "Though, may I ask why?"

"When my brother told me that we must journey to Falmart, I struggled to find available soldiers for this impromptu expedition; I fear that were I not the Defender of Ulthuan, it might have just been my brother and I, and not the small force that I did manage to scrape together. Be that as it may, I did manage to enlist the aid of a Lothern Skycutter, whose crew I ordered to scout the enemy. Barely an hour ago they returned to me, exhausted a filled with dire warnings; the entirety of the undead army march north to face you. They will be here within three days."

"The entire army?" Vanon asked, his face paling even more than it had been already.

"That is not the worst of it I fear." Tyrion went on, "A vanguard marches ahead of them, led by knights in red armor and possessing dragon banners. There is no doubt that they are Blood Dragons, for even in Ulthuan do they tell tales of that bloodthirsty brotherhood of knights. They will arrive either tonight, or early in the morning tomorrow."

"Then we have not a moment to spare." Vanon said, "Follow me, I will take you to Prince Erhardt and Princess Pina. Then we must prepare as best we can."

Vanon kissed her cheek, and then left, Tyrion on his heels. Teclis patted her shoulder and offered a small smile.

"Farewell for now Lady Tuka, and do be careful; you may be carrying the future of both our tribes."

With that, the Loremaster left as well, leaving Tuka alone in the tent.

Tuka said nothing but stood up, grabbing her clothes to change; battle would be upon them, and she had her own part to play as well.

* * *

Walach Harkon smiled as he saw his army march forward. Von Carstein had given him the vanguard, as requested, and now, battle would be waged! He would slaughter the mortals, and then the next step of his plan would unfold…

"Grandmaster." a scaled demihuman called out as he rode up next to Harkon, "We have an issue."

Harkon grunted.

"Is he acting up again?" Harkon asked, baring his fangs in displeasure.

"Yes. I apologize, but when he gets like this, you're the only one who can come close to him without him going berserk-"

"Save it, it matters not. It is good that you came to me; the last time one of you newborns tried to rouse him, he tore off the poor lad's head."

"Yes, of course. He's this way."

Harkon followed his subordinate down the path, and past rows and rows of undead soldiers. Kneeling at the side of the road was another vampire in red plate, holding an axe in his hands, and muttering something under his breath.

"Duke." Harkon said, "What are you doing?"

"I am giving thanks to the Lady." He said, "Asking her to watch over us, and to look after the brothers who have passed on."

Harkon let out a disgusted grunt "Not this again…" he muttered.

"Where is it that you think we are?" Harkon asked.

"Where else?" the Duke said, "Estalia, off to liberate the land from the Sultan Jaffar's armies."

"We are not in Estalia. We are in Falmart. The Crusade was over centuries ago."

"Play not your mind games with me!" the Duke screamed, jumping to his feet and brandishing his axe at Harkon "I know where I am! We are in Estalia, fighting the black eharts of Araby!"

"Fool! Look around you!" Harkon shouted, "Does! This! Look! Like! Estalia! To you?!"

"I…" the Duke looked around, and all violence left his posture, "I… no… no I remember now. I was hallucinating again, wasn't I Harkon."

"You were." Harkon snapped, "Shameful that the Scourge of Aquitaine has devolved into a senile fool. You weren't this bad back in the Old World…"

In the blink of an eye, the Red Duke closed the distance between himself and Harkon, and had his axe against the Blood Dragon's neck.

"Careful Walach!" he snarled, "My mind may no longer be what is once was, but I am still one of our sire's best. If nothing else, count on my sword arm in the coming battle."

"I shall hold you to that El Syf." Harkon said, "Now, get that out of my face, and get marching again. We will be there come nightfall."

The Red Duke lowered his weapon and spit at Harkon's feet, before then turning around, returning to his undead mount.

Harkon smiled; yes, with the Red Duke on his side, the mortals would fall before the scions of Abhorash like wheat. He would win Mannfred's battle for him, and then, when the Von Carstein whelp basked in his moment of triumph, Harkon would take everything from him, and make it his own.

 _Emperor Harkon_ … now that was music to his ears…

* * *

 _Allied Camp_

As an educated and polite prince, Erhardt would say that the mood of the tent was that of great unease… were he given to excessive profanity however, he would say that everyone was scared out of their fucking minds.

Of the two descriptions, he would have to say that the latter was, of the two, the more accurate.

No one had been expecting Vanon to bring Tyrion and Teclis, two of the most famous elves in the world with him, just as no one had been prepared for the dire news they brought as well.

The entirety of the undead army marching on their position, with a vanguard only hours away, led by Blood Dragons no less? Erhardt knew he would have to fight all the assembled might of the undead eventually… just not like this. Even if they somehow managed to emerge victorious against the Blood Dragons, then they would have to face the full force of Mannfred's army.

"I have a plan."

Erhardt turned to look at Pina, who had stood up to address the assembled men and elves, "I have been told that these 'blood dragons' are the most effective when on horseback; is that true?"

"To an extent." Father Wilhelm said, running a hand up and down the handle of his hammer, "A vampire is a dangerous foe either way, and a Blood Dragon is to other vampires what a vampire is to a human. However, they are at their most devastating when they charge."

"In that case, I may have a solution to, if not stop them in their tracks, then at the very least deprive them of at least one advantage. I will require some things though."

"Name it." Erhardt said, "I'm open to any idea that just may get us through the night."

"Every shovel in the camp, every able-bodied man, woman, and demihuman, and as we are nowhere near a forest, every tent-post we have."

"I believe that I see what you are planning." Tyrion said as he stepped forward, "I assume that for it to be effective it requires that the enemy not know about it beforehand."

"Indeed Prince Tyrion." Pina replied.

"Then I know what I must do." Tyrion then turned on his heel and began to leave the tent, "The vampires have many flying units in their army, from large bats to reanimated wyverns. I will ensure that none of them will see what it is that you are doing, and report back to their masters."

"With all due respect Prince Tyrion." Erhardt said, "The vampires have many bats, and many wyverns, while you admitted that you yourself have only brought a handful of warriors. How many could you possibly hope to stop?"

"I am not used to being second guessed by humans." Tyrion replied, and Erhardt shrank under the Heir of Aenarion's gaze, "But it is true that I have only brought a few units; but what I did bring is the cream of the Asur crop. Rest assured, all of you, that they will do their duty, and will ensure the secrecy of the Princess' plan."

Tyrion then turned to Vanon, who stood straighter now that the Prince's attention was on him.

"Captain Vanon, might I borrow the Phoenix Guard who travels with you?" he asked, "He and his mount will be of great use to me in this endeavor."

"I do not presume to command to Phoenix Guard, Prince Tyrion." Vanon explained, "You will have to ask Fedrac yourself, though I believe he will agree."

"Then I shall. None of their fliers will report back to their masters."

Tyrion nodded, and then left, his retainers close behind him, leaving the rest of them behind.

"My brother will do what he says." Teclis stated, "So, for the time being, would you mind telling us your plan Princess?"

"Of course, High Loremaster." Pina said with a nod, "The Commanders of Sadera's Legions are not just trained to be warriors, but we are also trained in engineering. I propose that we dig a long trench in front of our lines. In the ditch and in front of our lines we will place the tent poles, sharpened into stakes."

"A good plan for those who have day to do it in." Father Wilhelm said, "But we do not have days. We have until nightfall if the Asur's scouts are correct-"

"They are." Teclis interrupted.

"And that is time that we must prepare for battle in, not dig holes in the dirt."

"It is true that there is not enough time to dig a deep enough ditch in front of our entire army." Pina said, "But there is enough time to dig one in front of a section of the army, preferably a section that will be irresistible to these Blood Dragons."

"What do you mean?" Erhardt asked, "Irresistible how so?"

"All morning I have been told of how the Blood Dragons are dangerous enemies, and shrewd warriors. What warrior would resist the glory of killing the enemy commander?"

Pina went on to explain her plan in detail, and Erhardt found himself agreeing with it. It was no grand stratagem to win them the day flawlessly, but it was something that might help.

"Then that settles it. I will begin giving orders to my centurions." She said, starting to get up before stopping, "However… now that I think of it though Prince Erhadt, might I borrow one of your mages?"

"Which one?"

"The one that plays with fire."

* * *

 _That night…_

It was dark when they arrived, and cloudy. One could barely see the sun going down, and the moon was not visible either. Were it not for the torches lit by the mortal army, there would be no light at all.

"There they are." Walach said as he rode forward, seeing his foes with his vampire night vision, "Waiting for us it seems. Brave of them… and stupid. Still, the elves will provide me with some semblance of sport."

"Underestimate the enemy at your own peril Harkon." The Red Duke said as he rode next to his co-leader, "I've found that mortals can become crafty when cornered."

Harkon laughed.

"Great men maybe, but this force is led by mere children Duke. They will fall, and they will break before our numbers and our ferocity."

"Think for a moment Harkon." The Duke snarled, "None of our flying scouts have reported back. We are walking into this blind."

"Our scouts are dead, most likely." Walach said, "And if they were weak enough to fall, then they deserved it. It is of no matter. I see what is arrayed before us, and I am not impressed- wait."

Walach narrowed his eyes and leaned forward.

"What is it?" the Duke asked.

"I see men and women whom I assume are their leaders." Came the reply, "They stand in the center, in the open, the most vulnerable part of the army… oh. Oh!"

Harkon chuckled as he leaned back, "Either they're lacking more wits than I initially suspected, or they've hoping to entice us to attack their center line, perhaps hoping to encircle us; it's a maneuver I have used in the past. They must think me a fool. Still, the chance to kill their leaders in one fell swoop is too good of an opportunity to pass up.

"Gertrand!" he shouted, and a Blood Dragon approached on horseback.

"Your will Grandmaster?" Gertrand asked.

"Send some of the newborns and the black knights to attack the center." Walach pointed, "They are to bring me the heads of the human prince and princess, as well as the elf leaders. If they allow themselves to become surrounded, then I will rip off their heads myself. Otherwise, this will be a good way to blood the newborns."

Gertrand saluted, and rode off to gather the strike force. The Duke growled, and shifted in his saddle.

"Calm yourself Duke, you will get your chance for blood." Walach said, "But for now, wait."

"You call yourself a scion of Abhorash?" the Red Duke shouted as he saw a dozen Blood Dragons and two score black knights charge forward, "Waiting like this is unbearable!"

"You shall bear it!" Walach shouted, "Or else I-"

A drawn sword at Walach's throat kept him from finishing his words.

"You do not command me!" the Duek shouted, "None but the King and the Lady may command me! I will do battle will Jaffar's legions, and no coward will hold me back!"

Walach sighed.

"In the name of our sire Duke, you are not in Estalia."

"Of course I am!"

"No!"

Walach slapped the sword away.

"You are in Falmart, and you are coming very close to becoming a hinderance to my battle! Now get back in line or else I will-"

Walach was cut off once more, except this time, it was by an ear-splitting roar, coming from the other side of the battlefield. He took his eyes away from the Red Duke, and tried to see what was going on, frowning when he set his eyes on the source of the noise.

"Well, I was not expecting that." He said.

* * *

 _A minute ago…_

"Here they come." Erhardt said, gripping the handle of his sword. He was on foot, having forgone a horse for this battle; he would have ended up getting it killed anyway.

"Yes they are." Pina replied, "At full speed as well. It seems Prince Tyrion was true to his word; not a single flier made it back to the vampires. Still, I was hoping that more of them would take the bait."

"This will have to do." Erhardt said as he watched the undead cavalry continue to charge their position.

They were a very tempting target; a prince and a princess standing in front of the lines, with only a few bodyguards, just begging to be come and slaughtered. There was nothing between them and the approaching foe except for the dirt.

Freshly turned dirt however, several yards of it.

The first of the blood knights to step onto the dirt fell through it, for it was not solid earth at all; it was a tarp, camouflaged with dirt, covering a large ditch. Within the ditch were wooden stakes, with sharpened points. The momentum of both vampire and mount caused them to land hard and fast; right onto the spikes, impaling them both.

It was too late for the other riders to stop though; one by one, vampires, wights, and undead steeds crashed into the hole, landing on wooden stakes, and crushed under the weight of their fellows. Only one vampire and several black knights escaped the trap, for they were was at the back, and saw what had become of the others.

The vampire stopped, backed up, and urged his horse to jump over the ditch. As an undead, the mount was capable of a longer jump than a living horse, but ultimately it still fell short. It was of no matter, for the vampire jumped off his horse, abandoning it to the spikes and landed on the other side in a kneeling position.

It then immediately shot up and drew its sword, carving into several of Erhardt's greatswords, killing the men in a blink of an eye. Erhardt raised his sword and then charged, blocking the vampire's blade with his own before the undead knight could kill another greatsword.

They exchanged a few blows, Erhardt using all his strength to keep the blood knight from overwhelming him with it's superior might and speed. Erhardt had a magic sword however, one purpose built to killing undead.

He saw an opening, and he brought his sword down on the vampire's head, cleaving it in two, and killing the vampire. Erhardt quickly removed the blade, and then kicked the corpse into the pit of spikes.

"Magister Detlav." Pina shouted, "Burn them!"

Detlav, the Bright Wizard, emerged from behind the formation of state troops, and laughed like a madman as he approached the pit of spikes. The vampires and black knights, though impaled, were still moving. Detlav aimed to fix that. Taking a deep breath, the Bright Wizard then exhaled, letting loose a huge fireball that engulfed the hapless undead in flames.

* * *

"They are cleverer than I gave them credit for." Walach said, "Still, they played their little trap, but they can only do it once."

It was then that the Red Duke charged forward, waving his axe and sword and yelling like a madman. Walach grunted at the sight of it.

"Very well," he said, "No point in waiting any longer."

He drew his sword and addressed his army.

"Blood Dragons! The fools who just died were unworthy of the gift of vampirism. They deserved their deaths. Learn from their failures, and do not make them yourself. Now charge, and slaughter them all!"

With that, the zombies, skeletons, wights and other undead monstrosities marched forward, ready to begin the battle in earnest.

* * *

"Artillery fire!" Erhardt shouted, and the roar of cannons rang out like thunder.

"You will need more than that to stem the tide." Prince Tyrion said as he rode next to Erhardt, mounted upon his famous mount, Malhandir.

"Have you any suggestions then?" Erhardt asked.

"I will call upon that which silenced their flying scouts." Tyrion said as he drew Sunfang, the legendary sword of his ancestor.

"What exactly are you summoning?" Erhardt asked, "I don't see anything."

"It is hidden, above the clouds that my brother conjured." Tyrion explained, "It currently hides from the enemy, but on my signal, it will join the battle."

"But what is it? What is the signal"

Tyrion smiled.

"Watch." He said, and he pointed Sunfang into the air. A jet of fire erupted from the magical blade, illuminating the night sky. No sooner had the fire dissipated then, Tyrion's reinforcements descended from the heavens.

Great Eagles, many times larger than the birds native to the Empire, quickly flew down in aerial packs, picking off undead as they charged towards the allied lines. The Phoenix Guard, Fedrac, upon his mount, was leading a trio of the magical birds his order was named for, and they descended onto the battlefield as well, burning entire groups of undead with fire.

Finally, the greatest of all of the reinforcements descended from the clouds; a dragon of Caledor, with scales the color of the sun, flew through the clouds and to the battlefield. Massive, ancient, and powerful, all who saw the dragon were rendered speechless by it. It strafed the undead army, and, with its breath, set the undead alight.

"The sun dragon is a worthy ally." Tyrion explained as he lowered Sunfang, "Not only will she kill many foes for us, but she will also serve as bait for the blood dragons; they wish to emulate their sire, Abhorash, by killing and drinking the blood of worthy foes. What is worthier than a dragon? Unfortunately for them, she will not give them the battle they seek. She will keep their attention on her, lead them on a merry chase, and keep them away from us."

"Allowing us to deal with the rest of the undead army." Pina said, drawing her sword, "My legionaries are re- wait."

She pointed with her sword at an oncoming rider, dressed in full red plate, and carrying a sword and an axe in either hand.

"Vampire." Pina stated, "Making a beeline right towards us."

"Let it come." Erhardt said as he readied his sword, "I am ready."

"No, you are not." Tyrion said, "I can tell, even from here, that this foe is beyond you Prince Erhardt; should you fight hi, he would kill you, and all your soldiers to get to you.

"You focus on the enemy army." Tyrion said as he urged Malhandir forward, "This one is mine!"

Prince Tyrion, the Heir of Aenarion rode forward, Sunfang, his magical sword in hand. On the other side, the Red Duke, the Scourge of Aquitaine, charged, a weapon in both hands.

Both were some of the finest warriors in the world; both were riding directly towards the other.

When they met, Tyrion lashed out with Sunfang, and the Red Duke blocked with his own sword. The impact of sword against sword sounded throughout the field;

A great duel had begun.

With a ferocious roar, the Red Duke attempted to strike at Tyrion, but the Prince blocked his blow with his own blade.

The two fighters exchanged a dozen more blows, each trying to pierce the other's defense, to strike a killing blow, and to end the duel.

All around them, the two armies clashed. The undead were mowed down by the concentrated firepower of Empire cannons, Saderan onagers and ballistae, and elven Eagle Bolt Throwers, and overhead the dragon and the phoenix set ablaze huge swathes of the undead ranks.

For every fallen zombie and skeleton however, three more took its place, and eventually the two armies met in melee combat.

The highly drilled and professional Empire state troops, Saderan legionaries, and Asur warriors held their ground in the face of overwhelming numbers. Demihuman auxiliaries, particurly the more bestial soldiers, struck down scores of their rotting foes. Even the untested conscripts from Alnus' refugees managed to hold their position.

Not all was going well for the host of the living; black knights and Blood Dragons were tearing through units, carving up drilled battle lines with their sheer power and ferocity. It was all their officers could do to keep the lines from breaking under such an onslaught.

All the while, Tyrion the Defender of Ulthuan, fought with the Red Duke, Scourge of Aquitaine.

"You fight well." The Duke said as he swung his axe at Tyrion's head, only to have it be deflected by Sunfang, "For an elf that is."

"Then you have only fought our wayward cousins from Athel Loren." Tyrion shot back, striking out with his blade, "And not a true son of Ulthuan."

"I must admit, you are stronger than the fae I've slain in the past." The Duke said as he parried Tyrion's blow with his sword before swinging with his axe once more, "But you will die all the same."

Tyrion grunted as he pulled his head back; a second too late, and the axe could have grazed his helmet. He then stabbed with his sword, cutting across the Duke's left cheek, and leaving a shallow wound. The vampire merely grunted and pressed his assault upon the elf prince.

Tyrion was a centuries old veteran of many battles, but it was rare for him to fight a truly worthy foe; the first time was the elf Tyrion once knew as Illtharis, but in truth was Urian Poisonblade, whom he fought on the Finuval Plains. Since then, he had faced numerous skilled opponents, but rarely were they on Urian's level.

This vampire, however, was one such opponent. He did not possess the flawless skill with a sword that Poisonblade had, but he made up for it with sheer strength, speed, and ferocity.

Their battle went on for what seemed like hours. Sometimes Tyrion would gain the advantage, other times, the vampire would. All around them, the battle continued, thousands of warriors holding their ground against the vast horde of the undead. Occasionally, another opponent, be they blood knight or human knight, wandered too close, only to be dispatched by the fighter from the opposing side in an instant before he returned to his true foe. Tyrion had fought longer battles before, but he knew that it was imperative to bring an end to this fight.

That's when the plan began to formulate in his mind; all he needed was an opening.

That was when the gods heard his request, and were kind enough to provide him with one.

"For the Lady!"

A shout from a knight of Bretonnia, only a few yards away, charging to do battle with a black knight, could be heard over the chaos of battle. As they locked blades with one another, the vampire turned his gaze from Tyrion for a split second towards the Bretonnian, and a look came to his eyes; a look of one who had seen something familiar, that they had lost.

It was for less than a second, but that was all the time that Tyrion needed.

Tyrion's sword, Sunfang, was more than just the ancient blade of his ancestor; it was a powerful magical weapon as well. The Defender of Ulthuan drew back his sword, and slammed it against the Red Duke's weapon, pushing both swords close to the vampire's face. It was then that Tyrion willed flames to erupt from his blade, shooting a stream of potent fire into the vampire's face. The fires of Sunfang burned with the power of its namesake, far hotter than any mortal flame.

The vampire screamed in anguish, dropping his weapons and grasping burning flesh with his clawed hands. He was blinded, and in the worst pain he had ever experienced in his unlife.

Tyrion wasted no time; he swung his sword, aiming for the vampire's neck. With a single stroke, the Red Duke's head was separated from his shoulders, along with his hands from his wrists, which were still grasping his face, still aflame.

The Duke's lifeless body tumbled from his nightmare mount, collapsing in a heap to the ground. Tyrion let out a sigh, and turned his head. Three vampires, clad in red armor, were slowly circling him, weapons raised, and eyed him with hungry looks.

Such were Abhorash's spawn; rather than be afraid, they saw a powerful opponent like Tyrion only as a challenge to be overcome and killed, earning them the recognition of their sire.

"Well now." Tyrion addressed the vampires, leveling Sunfang in front of him, "I could use some more exercise. Which one of you would like to go first?" 

* * *

Grunting as he ran his foe through with his blade, Erhardt quickly dispatched a wight before quickly withdrawing it to block an attack by another wight.

As the battle continued on, Erhardt found that it was becoming harder and harder to control the magical energies that permeated his armor; with this many undead around, the spirit within struggled against its restraints, desiring nothing more than to visit its rage upon these abominations against Morr.

Erhardt shared its desire for violence, especially against the vampires, but he had to control it; should he let the spirit out, it would consume his soul along with their foes, and despite worshiping the King of the Underworld, Erhardt had no desire to meet the Lord of Dreams just yet.

A scream then tore him away from his thoughts, and Erhardt turned to the direction it came from.

One of his greatsword bodyguards had been impaled on a single longsword, wielded by a vampire in ornate red armor, decorated with foul mockeries of imperial knightly order symbols.

Pulling his sword out of the unfortunate dead man, the vampire began to slowly walk towards Erhardt. Reiksguard and Greatswords alike rushed to place themselves in between the prince and this new foe, only to be slain with every blow of the vampire's sword.

"Fight me Prince!" the vampire roared as he hacked the sword arm from a knight before then decapitating him, "If you have the courage that is!"

With a growl, Erhardt raised his blade, and allowed the magic of his armor to flow into it; he could only do an attack like this once this day, but against an opponent like this, it would not be wasted.

Wordlessly, Erhardt moved forward, advancing on the vampire, who had dispatched the last of the men who stood against him.

"Good…" the vampire said, "So, you're not a coward then? Excellent."

The vampire then bowed his head, while holding out his arms.

"Allow me to introduce myself; I am Walach Harkon, Grandmaster of the Knights of the Blood Dragon. When I kill you, I will raise you as a black knight, befitting one of your royal blood."

Erhardt said nothing, despite the terror he felt; he knew whom it was that he faced. Walach Harkon was infamous in the Empire and beyond. Would he, a mere mortal, even stand a chance against such a foe?

If he was to die this day, then he would at least die with honor. With that thought in mind, Erhardt charged the powerful vampire, sword raised, ready to bring the magically powered blade down on top of Harkon's undead skull.

Erhardt was only a few breaths away from his foe when Harkon moved; he was standing one second, and then he stood in front of the prince. The vampire had used his inhuman speed to close the distance between the two of them… and he had run his sword through Erhardt's lower abdomen.

Pain. Unbearable pain wracked Erhardt's body, and it was he could do not to scream in agony. His armor, blessed by Priests of Morr and inhabited by a spirit of death had been run through by Harkon's blade. Trembling, Erhardt lost his grip on his sword, and it fell to the ground.

"I commend your spirit." Harkon said as he withdrew his blade, "But did you really think you stood a chance against me? Me? The first among my Lord Abhorash's disciples? Greater men than you have tried _boy_."

Stumbling back, Erhardt brought both of his hands to his wound, trying as it to hold back the blood that was spilling out.

"You had potential, but alas, you were only human." Harkon continued as he slapped Erhardt to the ground with the back of his hand, "How disappointing."

Erhardt, using all his strength and ignoring the pain, stood up slowly.

"Working through the pain I see." Harkon commented, "You do have spirit. I was going to simply kill you and raise you as a wight, but now… perhaps I shall turn you instead."

Erhardt froze. Did he hear Harkon right?

"Yes, I think I will turn you. You should be honored; I have not personally turned a man in decades."

He… he was being serious. Harkon was going to turn him into a vampire, just like him! Like Mannfred. Like-

Like _her_.

Harkon moved towards Erhardt, sword pointing down at the ground.

"It's the only way to survive you know, what with all that blood you are losing; and is not eternal life more tempting than the mortal existence you currently inhabit-"

"GRAAAGH!"

Walach never finished. With a roar, Erhardt charged Walach, taking the vampire by surprise, and tackled him to the ground. Working through the pain and the blood loss, Erhardt then began to strike at Harkon's face with his armored hands, repeatedly, and with great fury.

"I will not be like her!" he shouted, "Do you hear me you Sigmar damned fucking leech! I will never be like her!"

He felt the vampire's nose break. He was sure he cracked one of his elongated canines as well. Before he could break something else however, Erhardt felt something sharp bite into his hand, crushing the armor and bone alike.

Harkon had actually bit into his hand, fury and bloodlust in his eyes.

"You dare strike me!" he yelled after he let go of the hand, before then striking Erhardt with his own fist, and sending the Prince to the ground, "I offer you the power of a demigod, and you dare to spit that in my face!"

Cradling his injured hand to his chest, Erhardt looked up, and saw Harkon already on his feet, in the middle of picking up his sword.

"There is no greater insult than this." Harkon said and he leveled his blade at Erhardt, "I will not turn you into a vampire, nor even a wight. Instead, I will take your skull, and turn it into a goblet from which I shall drink the blood of my enemies! Now, prepare to meet Morr, Princeling-"

Harkon never finished that sentence, for the tip of a wooden polearm had emerged from his breastplate. Hacking up blood, Harkon turned his head and saw just who it was that dared to strike him from behind.

"You…!" he snarled in anger as he saw Princess Pina Co Lada, covered in the rotting gore of zombies and the mud of the battlefield, holding her pike in both hands, and trying to push it in further, "You are dead woman!"

"By all the gods of Falmart, keep your hands off of him _leech_!" Pina shouted.

With a snarl, Harkon dropped his sword once more, but instead of dying, the vampire grabbed the end of the spear erupting from his chest, and quickly twirled his body in a circle. Pina, who was still holding the spear, was sent tumbling to the ground, next to Erhardt. Unlike the stricken Prince, she quickly got to her feet, and drew her sword, standing in between him and the vampire grandmaster.

"I'm going to make a set out of both of you!" Harkon said as he snapped the pike in two, and then pulled it out of his body, "But first, I'm going to make sure you suffer in great torment first."

"You will do no such thing." A noble voice rang out.

Harkon turned around and saw Teclis, High Loremaster, approach him, staff in one hand, and sword in the other.

"I challenge you Harkon." Teclis said, leveling his sword at the vampire, "That is, unless you only fight teenage _children_ now."

Blades were not his specialty. While he was better than the average human, Teclis preferred to use his spells, and left the swordwork to his more martially inclined twin. Yes, he had his magic sword, forged so long ago when the Witch King last came to Ulthuan, but against a natural swordsman like Harkon? He may as well have been a novice. He knew it, and he was sure that Walach's experienced eye had picked up on it as well, if that smug curling of his blood stained lips were anything to go by.

Of course, Teclis was High Loremaster; he had other skills to call upon; specifically, the traps he had spent the hours before battle preparing.

Harkon quickly closed the distance between the two of them, going for a quick killing blow, just as Teclis had expected. Teclis tapped his staff three times in quick succession on the ground, and unleashed his spell.

Walach's smug grin faltered when the earth itself broke before him, with a large spike of stone erupting from the ground like a spear, aiming for his heart. The vampire broke off his charge, and quickly jumped away from the pointed stone before he impaled himself, only for another stone spear to emerge from the earth, followed by another, and another, moving towards him.

With no other option, Harkon continued to move out of range of the stone spikes, which were following him wherever he went. Eventually, it stopped, mere breathes away from his face.

"What magic is this?" the Blood Dragon asked under his breath, "I didn't even see him cast a spell."

Not expecting an answer, Harkon instead charged again, this time mindful of any spells that the elf might have up his sleeve.

The two combatants clashed blades. While both were holding their own, Harkon was on the offensive, while it appeared that Teclis, despite his sword's magic, struggled to stay on the defense. If this kept up, he would lose his head in the next thirty seconds. Teclis resolved to make some room, and quickly cast a fireball at Harkon's face. The vampire was quick, and was able to move his face out of the way, but was forced to back-up and create distance between himself and the elven loremaster.

The High Loremaster cast another stone spear spell, but this time Harkon sidestepped the initial spear, and continued on towards Teclis, moving faster than the followup spears could follow him.

In response, Teclis cast another fireball from the head of his staff. Harkon sidestepped to the right to avoid the flames, and made to continue his sprint towards Teclis.

Another spear of stone erupted from the earth however, and impaled Harkon's left leg. Screaming in pain, harkon broke the stone with his sword, freeing himself, and snarling through the pain, his features devolving into a monstrous visage.

"You'll pay for that wizard!" Harkon screamed, the bloodlust overcoming him, "I will tear your head from your shoulders, and turn it into a goblet! I will rend you limb from limb by tying you to my horses! I will-"

"You talk too much." Teclis interrupted, and then snapped his fingers.

A magical net of bright light fell from the sky, and onto Harkon, binding him to where he stood.

"You bastard!" Harkon shouted, struggling in the magical bonds, "I should have expected a weakling like you to use such tricks! You haven't the spirit to fight me like a man!"

"Well, I am an elf." Teclis said, "But really Harkon, if I tried to fight you in a contest of swords, I would lose; you are one of the most infamous blood knights in the world, and your skill with a blade is as infamous as your bloodlust. So, if I was to emerge victorious, I decided not to play your game. Fighting you on your own terms was Prince Erhardt's mistake, but it would not be mine. Which is why I am going to destroy you now, utterly, so that not even shards of your bones remain after I am done with you."

Teclis tapped his staff to the ground twelve times, and four stone spears shot from the ground and impaled Harkon.

"Is… this supposed to kill me?" Harkon asked between pained gasps, "Because… you'll need to do better than that!"

"No, not kill you." Teclis answered, "Just hold you in place."

"What?"

"My powers may not have the Sigmarite Cult's special properties which are serve as an antithesis against your kind, but in all my centuries of life, and participation in as many battles, I've found one universal truth; powerful spells do not discriminate."

Teclis then raised his staff, and cast one of his most powerful spells. The dark clouds in the sky parted, and a celestial object was pulled down to the earth. The Comet of Cassandora had only one target this day; Walach Harkon.

Harkon saw the space rock approach, and refused to simply accept his fate. Instead, struggled, and began to break the stone spears, one, then two, in an effort to free himself. It was admirable, his will to survive, but ultimately futile. He would not make it in time.

"DAMN YOU ELF!" Harkon shouted, "MAY THE DARK GODS TAKE YOU, AND ALL OF YOUR-"

He did not finish before the Comet came down on him. In an instant, Walach Harkon, Grandmaster of the Blood Dragons, was crushed under the weight of the Comet, and killed instantly. The impact kicked up a huge dust cloud, cloaking that part of the battlefield in even more darkness. The shock wave of the impact hit Teclis, but he had used his mag to keep his feet stable on the ground, so the High Loremaster only wobbled for a bit.

"Well, that was exciting." Teclis said as he dusted off his robes, "Now, where is Prince Erhardt…"

Teclis' eyes caught sight of the Prince, still on the ground, with Princess Pina beside him, holding his hand while one of the Empire's War Priest's tended to his grievous wound. Teclis remembered the priests from his time assisting Magnus; a dour and uncompromising lot, with no respect for magic, but whose healing powers had saved many lives on the field of battle. Still, it would be in the best interests of everyone if the High Loremaster offered his own services in saving Erhardt's life.

The boy was no Magnus in either skill, charm, or leadership, but he had a history of cooperation with Captain Vanon's expedition and the local Falmarters. Finding a human intelligent enough to cooperate with non-humans was difficult enough, but if Erhardt died, there was no doubt in Teclis' mind that the Empire would simply send a brutish thug, that depressingly made up the majority of their nobility, to replace him.

Teclis was familiar with those types of nobles; he had to interact with too many when he was building Magnus' College, and he had no wish or desire to go through that again.

Without a word, Teclis walked over to the stricken Erhardt and knelt beside him.

"How is he?" he asked the War Priest, Wilhelm, he recalled.

"He took a blade to the lower abdomen." Wilhelm replied, wiping dust and sweat from his brow with an armored hand, "It ruptured his lower intestine, and he is losing blood fast. If I cannot heal him quickly, the Prince will not survive."

Teclis noticed Princess Pina tense at Wilhelm's words. She was concerned about the Prince… beyond the concern of two allies. Interesting, but at the moment, unimportant.

"Allow me to assist." Teclis said as he placed his free hand on the opening of Erhardt's armor, and began to call upon all the healing lore he had at his disposal.

"Thank you Loremaster." Princess Pina said as she squeezed Erhardt's hand, before then letting go and drawing her sword, "I leave him in yours and Father Wilhelm's capable hands. Now I must return to the battle; it is almost time for the trap to be sprung, and for us to claim our victory."

===

 _Coalition Army Camp_

The undead army did not know that their leaders, the Red Duke and Walach Harkon, had fallen. The individual vampires and necromancers who kept the dead upright and fighting continued to send their magical slaves at the Coalition's soldiers, in such numbers that soon, even without the two great vampires, the battle would soon be won.

So focused on the enemy in front of them were the puppet masters, that they neglected to check their flanks…

From the right and left came the coalition cavalry; Bretonnian and Empire knights, Saderan heavy horse, Asur Silver Helms, charging into the mass of rotting flesh and bleached bones. They served as the hammer to the coalition main line's anvil, and between the two of them, the undead army was shattered.

The Blood Dragons, having seen that the battle had now turned against them, and with their leaders nowhere in sight, turned tail and ran, taking with them the surviving necromancers, and leaving the remaining zombies, skeletons, and other undead behind them. The abandoned fodder were in turn cut down by the blades of the coalition, until not a single shambling corpse-soldier was left upon the field of battle.

Just as Pina said, victory was theirs… but at a great cost. 

* * *

_Coalition Command Tent_

"... and with the final body count from my legions, that brings the death toll to a third of all our forces," Pina announced to the assembled generals and leaders, "in addition to a fourth of all survivors being too wounded to continue fighting, our total fighting strength is only half of what it once was."

"Prince Erhardt is among those wounded." Sir Siegfried, who represented his liege, said bitterly as he leaned back in his chair, "Another victory like that, and we lose this war. We are no longer in a position to continue with this campaign; therefore, I propose we withdraw back to Alnus Hill to regroup."

"If we withdraw now, then the vampires will continue to chase us." an Imperial General with a thick Middenland accet pointed out, "They'll be on our heels like hellhounds, and even if we make it back to Alnus Hill, we won't have much time to lick our wounds."

"To say nothing of what horrors that Von Carstein will unleash if we pull back into Alnus." the Bretonnian Grail Knight said, "For every town and village we leave behind, we give Mannfred more fodder for his armies, so when he finally comes for us at Alnus, he shall have an even larger host!"

"We only won that battle tanks to Prince Tyrion and High Loremaster Teclis," Vanon said as a medic tended to his head (he was missing the pointed tip of his left ear), "Without them, there is no doubt we would have lost our lives, and our souls… but they have instructed me to tell you all that they will not stay to fight a losing battle; they make for Alnus Hill."

"Are your Princes cowards?" the Middenlander general asked, "That they would turn tail and run now?"

"You dare call them cowards?" Vanon shouted, "Were we not to be set upon by the legions of the undead, I would challenge you to a duel, sir."

"Peace sirs, peace." Morgan Bernhardt of the Grudgebears pointed out, "We will simply be throwing our lives away now if we stay and fight. We barely won that last battle, and if the reports are correct, than that devil Mannfred has an army nearly three times the size of our current battle ready force. We have no choice; we must pull back."

The debate continued on for another hour, but eventually, a consensus was reached; the armies of the coalition would pull back to Alnus Hill, and prepare themselves for the coming siege. 

* * *

"Not how I pictured our glorious campaign to the south would end." Erhardt said weakly as he sat up in bed, paler than usual.

"I'm sorry that it's come to this." Pina said as she sat beside him, "How are you feeling right now?"

"Terrible." he admitted, "I am eternally grateful to Father Wilhelm and High Loremaster Teclis however; they saved my life… but I fear I will not be fighting anytime soon."

"Was the damage permanent?" Pina asked, very concerned.

"I'm not paralyzed if that's what you are asking." he said, "But my body is now weak, and needs time to recuperate. Not even the best healing powers in the world can change the fact that I was run through with a broadsword."

He made a disgusted noise and leaned back, placing his hand over his eyes, "Now I know how some of my horses feel whenever I ride them into battle."

"You're luckier than most." Pina said as she put a hand on his shoulder, "My grandfather, Emperor Sulla Co Augustus, was stabbed where you were in a battle against the Khemsh League, and lost all feeling in his right side after a battle once, and had to go through the next thirty years of his life as a half crippled man. Advances in medicine made in recent history may have helped him when it happened, but alas, we cannot change the past."

"Alas." Erhardt agreed, "Only the future… provided that we live that long."

"I do not intend on dying and being risen again as a vampire's thrall. We will survive, and we will put an end to the war between our peoples."

"You are very optimistic."

"Between your new sense of fashion and the odds, one of us has to be." Pina semi-joked, "Now… have any ideas on how we're going to survive this?"

"We need more manpower." Erhardt said bluntly, opening his eyes, "And quickly. I have more refugees that we can press into service, but that would be sending sheep to slaughter."

"That might be what it comes down to." Pina said sadly.

"However, we do have one major advantage; the Gate. On the other side is the Empire, and quite a number of noble houses with militias, and other irregular companies, and with favors that they owe the House of Franz. If I can call on them to reinforce us, we may just survive, and if worse comes to worse, we can retreat through the Gate, run to Altdorf, and wait for my father to return from Black Fire Pass and help him retake it. I would of course rather hope to avoid that last scenario."

Pina only nodded. If Erhardt lost Alnus Hill, then he would lose any and all trust his family had for him, and their plan to bring peace to the two empires would be in vain.

"Excuse me Your Highnesses," Grey Co Aldo, Pina's long time mentor, said, entering the tent and carrying a letter, "But a message has arrived for Princess Pina Co Lada."

"Whom is it from?" Pina inquired as she stood up to take the message.

"The seal is that of Marius Aurelian Fla Scipius."

Pina's eyes lit up and she eagerly took it and began to read.

"Who is this Marius Aurelian fellow?" Erhardt asked, "A friend?"

"He is my cousin, son of my mother's brother." she explained, "He is a general in the western provinces… he's heard of how the dead walk the earth here in Alnus, as well as my attempts to have my father send legions here."

"Is he offering troops?" Erhardt asked, mostly joking.

"Yes." Pina answered, excitedly.

"He is?" Erhardt said, very surprised, "How many?"

"Fifty-thousand men, his legions and those of his mother-in-law, Queen Ophis of Randan."

"After being told that I'll live, that is the most welcome news that I have heard all day." Erhardt said, "How soon can they join us?"

"According to his letter, they will be at Alnus in a month."

All good cheer left the room at Pina's announcement. A month. With the undead at their heels, the reinforcements that Pina's cousin was bringing may as well have been on the other side of the planet.

"It seems that, either way, we are in for a long siege." Erhardt noted bitterly. 

* * *

_The Camp of Mannfred Von Carstein_

"Those fools!" Mannfred shouted as he strangled the hapless messanger one handed, "I give Harkon an army to crush the living to the north, and he wastes it! Scion of Abohorash? I should have known better than to trust that warrior cult."

With a sickening snap, the messenger's neck broke, and Mannfred threw the new corpse aside.

"An entire army, destroyed!" Mannfred raged, "The humans, the elves, and whatever else fights alongside them, will feel my wrath for this insult! And if Harkon and any of his Blood Dragons survived, then I swear on the Book of Nagash, I will hunt them down and turn their bones into my royal regalia!"

"My Lord Von Carstein," Remus began, trying to calm his master down, "Please, anger is-"

Mannfred didn't let his "protege" finish; instead, he elongated his nails into talons, and slashed the younger vampire across the face.

"Be silent worm!" Mannfred shouted, and he began to pace, "Two defeats… a third, and I will lose all momentum that I have. The other vassals will mobilize their armies, Sadera itself will march against me, to say nothing of those parasites whom serve me… I must finish this, quickly, and with great violence."

Mannfred finally calmed, and smiled.

"The living will no doubt fall back to Alnus Hill, and hide behind their walls… I will show them why that is folly… how no wall can stand before me. I will take the field myself, and I will bring hell down upon their heads! Remus!"

Remus stood up, wiping away the blood from the wounds left upon his face.

"There is something that I need you to do…" 

* * *

_Alnus Hill_

Lector Natter Bismark was disturbed from his plans for Alnus' new Sigmarite Cathedral by the sturdy knocks on his chamber door.

"Who is it at this hour?" He asked, in a foul mood.

"Apologies my lord." he heard his footman say, "But a distinguished guest is here to see you."

Bismark raised an eyebrow. He was not expecting the very least, this should prove interesting.

"Send him in." he said, and stood up, straightening his robes to make himself look more presentable.

The door opened, and in walked a man wearing a cloak of gold, and holding a staff that glowed with arcane might.

The most striking thing about the newcomer was neither of these things, but the metal face mask, adorned with five spikes that circled his head like a halo.

"Supreme Patriarch Gelt," Bismark said, surprised, but offered his hand to the most powerful mage in the Empire, "It has been a while. What brings you to Alnus Hill?"

"I have two purposes here," Gelt said as he took the lector's hand in his own, "First is on behalf of the Emperor concerning several… disturbing rumors. The second is of my own purpose, concerning a city called Rondel, which is apparently populated with mages, and the center of all magical learning in this world. To that end, I seek one Lelei Le Lalena..."


	12. April Fools

_Fort Griffon_

With great reluctance, Erhardt opened his eyes. He did not want to leave his bed, to wake up; he was having such a lovely dream too.

"I see you're awake now." a sultry voice said, drawing Erhardt's attention to his right, and then concluded that no dream, however lovely, could compare to reality.

Princess Pina Co Lada, hair undone, and dressed in red lingerie, lay beside him, eyes sparkling in the morning sun.

"Good morning love." Erhardt said, wrapping an arm around her, "How'd you sleep?"

"You know that, after last night, none of us got much sleep… but I think that made the rest I did get much more.. satisfying."

"Tell me about it." Bozes Co Palesti said from Erhardt's left, the gorgeous blonde haired knight giving Erhardt a seductive grin as she pushed back her golden drills, "Once again my Princess, thank you for inviting me into your bed."

"And I as well." Myuute Luna Sires, the enchanting siren, said as she crawled onto Erhardt's chest, "The more the merrier."

"Which brings me to a suggestion I've been toying around with," Pina said, "It is true that more is merrier… so I think we should each invite a new woman to join us, so we can all be much… much… merrier… what do you think my Prince?"

Erhardt liked the sound of that idea, and made to voice his approval...

Well, he would have if something had not crashed through the roof, and landed in front of him.

"Sigmar's mighty abs!" Ehrardt shouted, "What in Morr's feet was that!?"

As the dust cleared, a figure emerged from the smoke. He was tall, taller than even the largest greenskin Erhardt had ever saw, and was clad in mighty, almost godlike red armor. In his might armored gauntlet, he held a warhammer that made Ghal Maraz, Sigmar's holy weapon, look tiny in comparison. The man's face was old and scarred, missing an eye, and gave the impression that he had seen countless battles.

"Who are you?" Erhardt asked, equal parts nervous and awed.

"I am Gabriel Angelos!" the man stated in a booming voice, "Chapter Master of the Blood Ravens, the Emperor's own Space Marines! I have come for you Erhardt Franz!"

"Wait, for me?" Erhardt asked, looking around, realizing that all the girls were gone, leaving only him and the strange giant.

"Yes! Although you have sullied your body with foul sorcery, and have engaged in carnal pleasure with xeno scum, you will come with me to do your duty to the Emperor!"

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-"

"The Emperor? You mean my father sent you?"

"-AAAAAAAAAAAAA-"

"NO! The Emperor of Man, Master of the Imperium of Man, which spans over a million worlds! Now come quickly, before they come!"

-AAAAAAAAAAAA-"

"Now wait a minute, I'm not going with you! I don't even know you!"

"-AAAAAAAAAAAAA-"

"You do not need to know me, only obey me, for you will come with me one way or the other!"

-AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-"

"Why should I- Wait. What's that noise?"

 ** _-AAAAAAAAAAAAGH!"_**

Another being crashed through the roof; this time it was a colossal greenskin, larger than even Gabriel Angelos, with an enormous metal hand.

"'Ello Erhdy!" the greenskin said, "De name's Gorgutz; Gorgutz Eadhunta! I'm here fer yer head, humie; ta put on me pointy stick ya see!"

Gorgutz pointed at his back where, sure enough, was a pointed stick with several skulls on it.

"Back foul creature!" a feminine yet utterly alien voice said.

Teleporting into his room was an elf like woman; but far more slender, and far more inhuman, with red hair, and wielding a spear crackling with eldritch energy.

"For Biel-Tan to survive, I, Macha, Farseer of the Swordwind, must be the one to slay him!"

"No… I think not." an unholy yet suave voice said, and suddenly, a dark and twisted parody of Gabriel Angelos appeared in a cloud of black smoke.

"Eliphas!" Gabriel snarled, "Why are you here?"

"The same as all of you; for Erhardt Franz' soul. With it, I will take my place as lord of the Black Legion, and visit my fury on all those who oppose me! Now, fools, die!"

With that, battle broke out between the four of them, mighty blades clashing, and guns beyond his imagination thundering. As dangerous as it was, Erhardt could not turn away… which was why he didn't notice the grenade until it was too late.

Erhardt snapped open his eyes and looked around his room; no Pina, no women, and, most importantly, no strange creatures and loud supermen getting into a fight and killing him by accident.

"It was such a lovely dream too." he said, rubbing his eyes, "But what in Khaine's hell caused that last part-"

He felt a glass bottle near his right hand. Cautiously, he picked it up, and read the label, understanding slowly dawning on him.

"Oh… right."

===

 _Dear Kurt Franz of the House Holswig-Schlietsein,_

 _My good brother, I tried the beer, "Taal's Dream Nectar", that you sent me to celebrate my gaining Alnus Hill. As you said, it did give me a good dream… well, half of one. Then the dream became very, very, odd._

 _A warning would be appreciated next time._

 _Much love,_

 _Erhardt Franz of the House Holswig-Schliestein_


	13. Chapter 12

_Fort Griffon_

"On a scale of a Nordland winter to a Kislev winter, how ill prepared are we?" Erhardt asked as he watched the blacksmith repair his armor.

When Harkon ran him through, he put two good sized holes in Erhardt's plate; never a good thing to leave unattended to, especially when the armor housed an uncontrollable and most likely malicious spirit of the Wind of Death.

"Things are grim." Siegfried admitted from his prince's side, "We've only half the manpower that we had during the last siege, and then we fought mortals, not abominations. However, we still have the gate, and a ready supply of food and water; then there is the High Elves on our side, and they have a damn dragon in the air."

"I wish we had one of those back during the siege." Erhardt admitted as he turned around and left the forge, making his way to the yard, Siegfried close behind, "It would have made fighting all those wyverns easier."

"We had the Emperor's griffon."

"As noble, loyal, and incredibly vicious a beast as Deathclaw is, he cannot breath fire."

"True."

The two men made their way through the organized chaos of a fort readying itself for war; Reiklanders and other Empire men made hasty improvements to the fortifications, and putting the artillery into position. The Saderans were digging ditches and filling them with sharpened stakes. The elves… were keeping to themselves. Erhardt was not foolish enough to 'suggest' that the Princes do menial labor. Even the demihuman auxiliaries were making themselves busy, directed by Myuute.

Then there was the arrival of the Supreme Patriarch to deal with; he had brought no additional forces outside of a handful of trusted apprentices, but he offered his assistance all the same. Erhardt was no fool however; he knew that Gelt had alternative motives for being at Alnus… but he was in no position to turn away help, especially help as capable as Gelt's.

All in all, they were doing everything that they could do to prepare for the oncoming storm… however, Erhardt sensed that something was not well… and he knew the source of it.

"You're dying to say something Siegfried." Erhardt said, "What holds your tongue?"

"Am I that obvious my Prince?"

"I can feel the tension between us; it is thick enough to cut with a knife. You've never had trouble speaking your mind in the past."

"What I must say is not… suitable to be spoken in public. It concerns you and a certain… maiden."

"Oh, I see." Erhardt said. He was wondering when Siegfried would get around to that, "Then let us speak in private."

A few minutes later, they found themselves in Erhardt's chambers, the prince sitting down at his desk while Siegfried stood.

"Well, alright, out with it." Erhardt sighed, pouring himself a cup of wine, "No doubt you already know about how the Princess and I-"

"Yes, I am very much aware." Siegfried said, "And what in Khaine's dagger covered hell were you thinking? Were you even thinking?"

"Siegfried-"

"She is the enemy. A princess of a nation that we are at war with! I cannot believe that you have made me go through this conversation again! She's not one of your loose women, for you to bed and then pay; people less favorable to you than I could see this as treason."

"I know how it seems Siegfried-"

"And yet you shared a bed with her regardless. She is using you Erhardt, to get what she wants."

"Of course she is; she has something that she wants, and I have something that I want. We have found common ground, and common purpose."

"Then please, oh wise scion of Franz, enlighten this ignorant fool! Tell me what purpose you could both share!"

"She wants to be Empress of Sadera, and I want to help her achieve that."

"I… I'm sorry, what was that?"

"You are correct in one thing; treason is being plotted. Now, she hasn't said it in as many words, but when we discuss our plans for the future, it is of our two empires at peace… even if that means replacing the current Emperor."

"You… you plan on supporting a coup? A civil war? How many forces does she have at her disposal? Those three legions are loaned to her by Emperor Molt; their loyalty is to him, not to her. Her cousin with the large army? His loyalties, along with everything else we know about him, are completely unknown to us! Holding Alnus is one thing, but would you send the garrison force to fight an entire empire?"

"I have no intention of fighting a losing war Siegfried." Erhardt said as he took a sip, "Nor of disobeying my father by committing forces to any coup."

"Good."

"Which is why after we defeat the vampires, I will take her to Altdorf to meet with him."

The way that Siegfried's eyes bulged looked unnatural.

"You… you would take her to meet with him… to convince him to support her in a civil war?"

"I would petition him to support our plans to secure the Gate, and the Reik's continued security." Erhardt said sternly, "Imagine if Pina becomes Empress; we would have true peace. No need to maintain a full garrison here at Alnus, no paranoia of a huge army invading the heartland of our home province, no Sword of Damoclus hanging over our heads! Yes, I would go to war to secure such a future, and for such a future, I would go to the Emperor."

Siegfried was silent for a moment, before shaking his head.

"And what guarantee would you have that Pina would not try to invade us again, once you've placed her on the throne of Sadera?"

"Simple," Erhardt stated, "for I plan to join her on that throne, as both husband and consort."

That was the statement that made Siegfried's knees wobble, and forced him to sit down.

"Need a drink?" Erhardt asked, holding up an extra cup.

"I think I shall." Siegfried said, his brain still coming to terms with the unbelievable nonsense his Prince had just uttered.

He was going to have Erhardt explain himself in a minute… and based on what he had just heard, Siegfried felt that he might need the whole bottle.

Erhardt went into more detail on his plan; what he and Pina shared, what he suspected Pina was hiding from him, and what he was hiding from Pina. When he was done, Siegfried was completely in shock, for it was simultaneously better and worse then the knight had expected.

Siegfried was right… he did need the whole bottle.

* * *

 _A Week Later..._

They marched up Alnus Hill, over two hundred thousand strong; skeletons, zombies, wights, and other shambling, moaning horrors. The smell of rotting flesh filled the air, and the sight of bleached bones,, clad in rusting armor, carrying torn and tattered banners of old Elbe, Toumaren, Alguna, and the League Principality, as well as new banners of the Von Carstein Bloodline.

The vampire leaders traveled on undead horses, wyverns, and other more exotic local mounts, eagerly awaiting the coming slaughter. Among them was Remus Von Carstein, King of Elbe, and trusted second of Mannfred Von Carstein, Lord of Drakenhof Castle, Count of Sylvania, heir of Nagash, and soon to be Master of all Falmart.

Remus resisted the urge to bring a palm to his injured eye; a result of his master's rage, and a reminder to be wary of an angered Von Carstein. A small voice within Remus urged him to seek retribution for this insult; he was of a long line of Elban Kings, who carved out their kingdom with the blood of their neighbors, and he would suffer no insults.

Ultimately, Remus' pragmatism won out; after all, Mannfred still had many more spells to teach him… centuries worth in fact. He would wait…

A roar from overhead drew Remus' attention skyward. It was a great undead dragon, upon whose back rode Mannfred Von Carstein himself, armed with both sickle and sword.

"Friends!" Mannfred shouted, his voice amplified with magic, "Behold the vermin upon Alnus Hill; they hide behind wooden walls like the doomed men and elves that they are! Take the hill, and take the Gate that rests upon it! With these pitiful insects dead, we shall move on, to every corner of this continent! The impotent lords and kings of this land are powerless to stop us, as weak and pathetic as their gods! We will lay waste to cities, and turn our victims to slaves for our empire… and once we are done here, we shall go through the Gate, and take the Old World as well! We will rule two worlds, and then, we shall harness the power of the Gate, and use it to travel to many worlds, spreading the Empire of the Midnight Aristocracy wherever our gaze falls upon!"

Mannfred then pointed his sword at the fort, and let loose an inuman cry of triumph.

"SLAY THEM ALL!"

With that, the undead horde charged... only to be met with explosions

A minute earlier

Upon the walls of Fort Griffon, Erhardt Franz stood, side-by-side with Pina Co Lada, Prince Tyrion and Teclis, Supreme Patriach Gelt, Captain Vanon, and a host of other brave defenders.

Together, they heard Von Carstein's speech, and his order to charge.

Erhardt would give no speech this day… only a command. Wordlessly, he raised his arm, then lowered it with a snap.

"FIRE!" he shouted, and then all hell was brought down upon his undead foes.

* * *

"So, yer saying that the undead are attacking their hill?" he asked from his chair.

"Aye." the messenger confirmed, shaking his head quickly.

"Hundreds o' thousands of the, quite literally, rotting bastards?"

"Aye."

"And that elves and those Saderans are standing with 'em?"

"Aye."

"Ah see… Well, what does that say about us, that if such lackluster allies, elgi and Saderans, stand with Sigmar's children, but not us?"

"Doesn't speak well of us."

"No… we'll have to fix that."

With that, he sat up, and moved past the messenger, pulling back the flaps of his tent to the outside, and then breathing in deeply.

"OI!" shouted Thane Kregan, so that everyone in the cavern heard him, "The Empire Umgi and elgi are being killed by undead! Dawi of Clan Magni and the Storm Ram Tribe; let's go show the undead bastards and our poor, unfortunate neighbors what Dawi strength is made of!"

"So we're finally going back?" Cato the Elder Sage asked, fixing his loose eyepatch as he emerged from his own tent, carrying a mechanical contraption in his other arm, "Does this mean we're taking those things with us?"

"Ya bet yer beard we are wizard!" Kregan shouted merrily, before then turning to the rest of the assembled dwarfs, "Grab yer axes, hammers, spears, or whatever, and hop on a giant squirrel! **_Khazukan Kazakit-ha_**!"

* * *

 _1st Week of the Siege_

"Not bad." Tyrion said as he clashed blades with Vanon, "But you hesitate when you should press your attack. Learn to seize your moment, for your enemy will not always be so generous."

"Yes Prince." Vanon said as he blocked a sword swing with his shield.

There was a lull in the fighting; for whatever reason, the undead had pulled back. Prince Tyrion had taken to this chance to ask Vanon for a spar, much to the younger elf's surprise. While good, Vanon could name at least twelve other elves in camp who were better than him with a blade. None of them could compare to Tyrion, of course, but if the Defender of Ulthuan wanted an adequate spar, then he had better choices than Vanon.

From the way the older elf was commenting on Vanon's skill, however, it almost seemed as if Tyrion was training him, and that the spar was for Vanon's benefit, rather than Tyrion's.

"You leave yourself open for a split second every time you strike at me." Tyrion pointed out, "Correct that, or else a faster opponent will take the opportunity you are so generously providing for them."

Vanon nodded, and then brought up his shield to deflect another blow, then swung his own blade, only for Tyrion to parry it, close the distance, and bring the tip of his sword to Vanon's throat.

"That's enough for today." Tyrion said as he sheathed his sword, "You've made good progress after only a week."

Tyrion turned around and walked over to the fort's well, gesturing with his hand for Vanon to follow.

The mortals, human and demihumans alike, quickly made way for the two elves; not that they had anything to fear, of course, but even the ignorant knew better than to impede Tyrion.

The Elf Prince grabbed the well's handle and turned the crank, puling up a bucket filled with water, purified a Jade Wizard during construction, to protect against diseases brought on by foul water. Wordlessly, Tyrion poured the water into two wooden cups, and handed one to Vanon, who took a sip, savoring the cool liquid going down his throat.

"Tell me something Captain." Tyrion began, "How do you feel about becoming a father?"

"That... is a complicated question." Vanon admitted, "With no one answer."

"Try me."

Vanon took a deep breath, and spoke.

"I feel many things, Prince Tyrion; I am happy to be having a baby, being a father is something I've always wanted... but at the same time, I am terrified."

"Ah, I see. I've known many an expecting father who worry about how well they'll be able to raise a child."

"With all respect Prince Tyrion, that's not what I am afraid of."

Vanon took another sip, and continued.

"You know how long it takes for one of our women to carry a babe in her womb. It is how Asuryan made us... but it is not how Tuka's people were created. Their mothers only carry children for nine months, the same as humans and dwarfs. I know not how long it will take our child to grow, nor if Tuka can survive it... I fear that I've killed her. She doesn't deserve such a fate, not after everything else that has happened to her. If she dies, then it is on my head."

"So, you blame yourself." It was a statement, not a question.

"Who else but me?" Vanon said with a scornful chuckle, "The whole thing is my fault, and mine alone."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because... because I rushed things between us." Vanon admitted, mournfully, "I was struck by her beauty, her kind soul, I could not help but fall for her. When she said yes, I felt my heart skip... little did I consider what a mistake it would be. She had lost a family, friends, the only life she knew. How much of her feelings were genuine, and how much was her trying to fill the void I wonder?"

"Perhaps you both moved too quickly." Tyrion admitted, "It would be hypocritical of me to criticize however, considering my history... still, it seems to me that you and your lady are in need of a long conversation."

"About this, and a great many other things." Vanon said, before then chuckling again, "All the promises I made to her... a new life, anywhere she wants, a family.. a kingdom for her people. I'd give anything, everything I am, if it meant she and the babe would live long and healthy lives."

Tyrion raised an eyebrow, specifically about one thing in particular.

"What was that about a kingdom?"

"Oh, one of many fool things I promised her." Vanon answered bitterly, "I vowed to approach the Phoenix King, and petition him for help in building a kingdom for the elves of Falmart, a place where her people could live free of human oppression; a place for us, perhaps, away from those in Ulthuan who disapprove."

"I see..." Tyrion whispered, then standing up.

"You must speak with Lady Marceau, Captain Vanon. Letting it fester like an infected wound will do you nor her any favors."

With that, Tyrion departed, leaving Vanon alone with his thoughts, gathering his resolve to speak with Tuka.

A few minutes later, Tyrion turned a corner behind the barracks, and came face-to-face with his brother.

"Did you know that Vanon had the same plan you do?" Tyrion asked his twin, crossing his arms in amusement, "Did you take inspiration from him, or did you come to it on your own?"

"I assure you brother, when I came here, I was unaware of Vanon's "plans," if you can even call such an ill thought out venture a plan. He is on the right track though."

Teclis turned around and began to walk away, and Tyrion moved alongside him.

"He wanted a land for the Falmart Elves." Teclis said, "So do I; our motivations may differ, but we ultimately both desire the same outcome. It seems I shall be working with the Captain even longer than I expected."

"Provided mother and child both live that is." Tyrion pointed out.

"I will ensure they both will." Teclis said seriously, "One way or another, they both will live. I defeated the Witch King in a contest of the arcane; the least I can do is save a mother and child."

===

 _The Gate & Demigryph Tavern, Fort Griffon_

"We haven't spoken." Tuka said as she drank an elven tea, "Not since that one battle, where the Princes showed up, and Erhardt was injured."

"That's been a lot of weeks." Lelei said as she held her own tea, "Why haven't you?"

"The situation keeps him busy." Tuka explained, "And when we are together, all we do is sleep... though it's not like before."

"How was it before?" Yao asked as she drank from a pint of beer, "Steamy?"

"N-not like that!" Tuka exclaimed, her face reddening.

"Wasn't it though?" Yao countered, "After all, you don't just go to sleep and become pregnant."

"He used to hold me." Tuka said, quickly changing the subject, though there was a hint of sadness in her voice, "When we first started sleeping together, he would hold me tight, and it would bring me such comfort, especially after... everything that happened. Now though, ever since I told him I was pregnant, it seems as if he's afraid; afraid of touching me."

"Why would he?" Lelei asked, looking up at her friend, "Be afraid, that is?"

"I'm not sure... but I think he feels guilty."

"What could he possibly feel guilty about?" Yao asked, takign a huge swig of beer, "Did he steal you away from another nice elf."

"No, nothing like that. It's just... Yao, how long does pregnancy last for a dark elf?"

"An odd question, but nine months; why?"

"Apparently, the pregnancies of his people last two years."

Yao choked on her beer, and Lelei almost dropped her tea.

"Two years?" Yao asked, wincing as TUka nodded, "That makes me glad I've been using precautions whenever I lay with Halros."

"Yes, that- wait." Tuka said, "You and the White Lion? Since when?"

"Since that one skirmish, where we fought an undead ape with dragon wings." Yao said, "He knows how to wield an axe, if you know what I mean."

"I... I see." Tuka said, "Precautions were something I should have considered when Vanon and I started... you know. Neither of us knew just how long the pregnancies of our two peoples would last, and now we don't know if the child will even survive... or if I will."

"That's terrible." Lelei said, "If there's anthing I can do to help, don't hesitate to ask; I can go through Master Cato's books, tere might be something in there to help us."

"Thank you Lelei, I accept." Tuka smiled, "Though to be honest... I'm not worried."

"Really? I'd be a little bit concerned." Yao said.

"Do not mistake me, a part of me is nervous, but another part of me is confidant that all three of us will make it out of this... somehow."

It was at that moment that Vanon entered the tavern, and made his way to a surprised Tuka.

"Good day Tuka." he said, somewhat awkwardly.

"Good day Vanon." she parroted back, unsure of what else to say.

"If you are free, then I would like to speak with you... in private."

"I'm free." Tuka replied, standing up and leaving some coin on the table to pay for her tea, "Where would you like to talk?"

"Our room."

"Alright then." and with that, the two elves left the tavern in silence, leaving Yao and Lelei behind.

"Well, that was almost painful to watch." Yao said, taking another swig of beer.

===

"What did you want to talk about?" Tuka asked, slightly hopeful as Vanon closed the door behind them, only to be surprised when he dropped to one knee in front of her, his head down.

"I'm so sorry." he said, "For everything. I had us move too fast, and now your life, and that of our child is in danger. I am so, so sorry, and I understand if you hate me."

"Vanon..." she started, "Look at me."

Slowly, he did so... and was surprised when she slapped him across the face.

"You foolish man." Tuka said, rubbing her hand, "Do you think so little of me that you conclude that I could ever hate you, over this?"

"But you would not be in this position if I considered your health better." Vanon said, rubbing his cheek, "I made us move too fast, and now you could pay the ultimate price for my impatience."

"Vanon." Tuka began, "I don't blame you, at all. You did not push me into anything that I did not want. I admit it, though, I was receptive to your advances at first because I had a hole in my heart; my family, my friends, my entire life was gone, taken from me in dragon fire. Then a handsome elf pulls me out of that well, and starts showering me with attention? What girl would not like that? There was a void in my life that needed filling... and you were willing to do so. How could I say no?

"But that's not why I stayed with you." Tuka continued, dropping to her knees, and placing a hand on Vanon's cheek, "We did rush into this, I admit it... but I don't regret it at all. You are kind, brave, and you make me feel as if I'm the luckiest woman in the world. I was so happy that you want to marry me, and I was even happier when I learned I was carrying _our_ child, because this baby is not only proof that what's between us is real, he is going to be proof that my people and yours, despite our differences, can make something wonderful together... and it breaks my heart to hear you say those things, because to me, it sounds like you regret _us_."

"I don't mean it like!" Vanon said quietly, "But the risks... if you or the baby dies... then I don't know if I can go on living without you."

"You won't have to." she replied, smiling, small tears forming in her eyes, "Because I won't die. I am a High Elf; my people have survived the downfall of our kingdoms, human oppression, and worse. I have survived a flame dragon, daemons, and the undead. I will survive this pregnancy, and so will our son."

Vanon's eyes widened.

"A son? How do you know?"

"My people just do." she replied, "I feel it in my heart... be it months or years from now, we will have a son, half of you, and half of me, and he will be beautiful."

"He'll have your looks." Vanon said, a small smile on his face, "How could he be anything else?"

"You flatterer." Tuka giggled, giving Vanon a light kiss.

"I've been a fool." Vanon admitted, bringing a hand to stroke her hair, and resting his head against hers, "Forgive me?"

"Always... but on one condition." Tuka stated, with a hint of sultriness, "You have to make up several weeks to me."

"Are you certain?" he asked.

"What's the worst that can happen? It's not as if I can get _more_ pregnant!" 

* * *

_Far to the North..._

The small rowboat came ashore, and one of the passengers quickly got out, wading through the cold seawater and onto the sandy beach.

"Finally!" she said, apparently unbothered by the chill wind, despite her choice of dress, "I thought we'd never get here!"

She then turned to the boat and banged against the wood three times.

"Hey virgin!" she called out, pushing some of her long black hair out her face while doing so, "Get up, we're here!"

A blue skinned girl with horns and dragon wings pulled a blanket off her head scowling at her companion.

"You're sure he's here?" Giselle, Apostle of Hardy, asked, picking up her weapon, a large scythe, from the bottom of the boat, "Because that's what you said about Sadera, and then Crassus afterwards, then Platomens, then-"

"You can never be one hundred percent certain about things." Rory Mercury, Apostle of Emroy said, grabbing her huge axe from the boat as well, "But I have a good feeling about this island; every ship for the past few years sailing here has disappeared-"

"Never to be seen again." Giselle finished as she got out of the boat, and began to drag it further ashore, "I remember the fishwife's story as good as you do."

"Well then let's get started!" Rory said, making her way inland, up a sandy hill, "We won't get anything done just by standing..."

"What?" Giselle asked, seeing Rory freeze up the moment she reached the top. Wordlessly, Emroy's Apostle dropped to the ground, and silently motioned for Giselle to do the same. The younger Apostle did as she was told, crawling up the hill until she reached Rory, and saw what had made her become so cautious.

It was a settlement, full of wooden buildings, constructed in a style similar to the ones build by some northern tribes Rory had encountered several centuries ago. Except these buildings were different, they seemed, for lack of a better word, foreboding, and harsh.

What was more, the symbol of the Eight Pointed Star, the symbol of the man they were hunting, was everywhere.

"Well, if he's not here." Rory began, "Then his friends certainly are."

* * *

 _2nd Week of the Siege_

"Something else we should do if- when we visit Sadera," Pina said as she idly sharpened her dagger, "is visit the Pulvis Magnam."

"What is that?" Erhardt asked as he poured the two of them Averland Ale, a gift from Uncle Marius.

"It is he largest arena in the Empire, where gladiators from countless different backgrounds and every corner of the continent come to fight. The spectacle is amazing, and the Arena Managers always put on a unique show at the beginning and end of every season. Last year, they were somehow able to flood the arena, bring in warships, and reenact the Battle of Agintha!"

"It sounds like quite a show." Erhardt said with a smile, handing her a mug before taking a sip himself, "All we have in the Empire are jousts and melees at tournaments; nothing so grand as naval battles."

"I do hope that my favorite gladiators are still alive." Pina said wistfully, "I haven't been in Sadera for months, and I have no idea if they've survived the first rounds yet."

"Are deaths common in the Arena?"

It was then that Pina looked at Erhardt as if he had just grown horns.

"Yes, most fights are to the death. Is that not common in your homeland?"

"No!" Erhardt exclaimed, "Sometimes, accidents happen, it is the nature of the tournament after all, but when we joust or fight in the melee, we do not actually _intend_ to do death. To have fighters actually intending to kill is... it's unthinkable."

"Is it really so strange?" Pina asked, "It's been a part of life here for thousands of years; men and women of all races fight for gold and glory, and if they are successful, their names live forever."

"To make a sport of death is alien to my sensibilities." Erhardt stated.

"So, watching people fight for our amusement is strange, but executing people by burning them to death on a pyre is normal for you? An axe does the job much quicker you know, and doesn't leave a smell."

"That was different; those were heretics, touched by the Ruinous Powers, and their filth had to be burned away."

"Then why not simply cut off their heads and the cremate their remains afterwards? Why burn them alive?"

"It is simply how things are done in the Empire; the Witch hunters burn heretics, that is their way."

"And in Sadera, gladiators fight to the death for gold, but their deaths are quick. Do not be so quick to judge my people's traditions Erhardt, and I will do the same for your ways."

The Prince said nothing after that, but instead drank his ale.

Inwardly, he noted that this was their first disagreement... the first of many, if their plans for the future went through.

* * *

 _The Army of Marius Aurelian Fla Scipius, a week away from Alnus Hill, the 2nd Week of the Siege  
_  
Quintus was a slave, in service to the General, and in the mornings, he had one task; to prepare drinks for his master and mistress. The General's drink was a black, bitter liquid that he had acquired a taste for ever since arriving in Flaem ten years ago. The Mistress' drink, on the other hand, was a blend of juices, native to her homeland.

In order to serve them, he had to gather ingredients from the supply tent; easier said than done, when it was on the other side of the camp, and a literal army stood between him and it.

So, carrying the drinks on a tray, careful not to spill a single drop, Quintus darted in-between the soldiers as they broke camp, taking additional care not to bump into an ill tempered soldier, be they Saderan, Flaemish, Randen, or Snake Demihuman.

Finally, he arrived at the tent, took a moment to compose himself, and entered.

"Good, you're here." the General, Marius, said as he leaned over a table, staring at a map of Alnus Province, his helmet/face mask hanging from his beltm "Set it down and leave us."

Quintus did as he was ordered, placing the tray on a clear space, bowing his head, and left without a word.

"How can you stand this chill?" his wife, Princess Alia Ha Flaem, asked as she entered the room, dressed in the traditional battledress of her homeland, "I feel I will freeze to death in this weather."

"Any place that is not desert is cold to you my dear. Here, this weather is considered temperate for this time of year. Though with luck, we will finish this y winter; that is when the snows come, and then it truly becomes cold."

"Your people are mad for wanting to live in places where snow is a thing." Alia said as she gracefully sat down in a chair, and took her juice, "You should thank your father's spirit every day for accepting the posting in Flaem's legions, delivering you from the cruelty of the cold."

"Yes; now instead of freezing to death, I can die of the heat." he shot back playfully, grabbing his own drink, and taking sip, "How are your people doing?"

"They complain of the chill more than I do." she said, "Though they will do their duty all the same. There is some tension between them, the Saderans, and the Randen however. We may want to address that sooner rather than later."

"They have discipline; they will not let their petty grievances get in the way of following orders."

Flaem was a land bordering the great desert, and it's people, both the coastal dwelling Flaemish and nomadic Randen, were strong and hardy as a result of the conditions there... they were also fiercely independent, and accepted Saderan Hegemony only reluctantly. The presence of five legions of Saderan troops was met with even less enthusiasm, but the Queens of Flaem had little choice but to accept it as a fact of life.

For many though, marrying the crown-princess to the commander of the legions was too much, and as a result, Marius and Alia had spent much of their honeymoon putting down a rebellion. Flaem was quiet now, but generations of bitterness had resulted in a tense mood in camp between Saderan soldiers, Flaemish spearmen, Randen horse archers, or snake demihuman sellswords.

Thankfully, though their warriors disliked each other, they were loyal to Marius and Alia, and would swallow their dislike, and kill their enemies.

"As you say husband... though I hope that dragging us all out this far east is worth it in the end."

"Oh, it shall." Marius assured her, "My dear cousin has written to me, telling me of her plans... the ambitions that she holds, oh, I think you have much in common with her Alia."

"And her ambitions will serve our own, how?"

"She wants to be Empress... but she needs an army. Which is why she is going to marry the leader of the Griffon People, who live beyond the Gate."

Alia's eyes went wide at that.

"You mean the army that slaughtered the Expedition, and then the Vassal's Alliance? That army?"

"The same.'

"Hm. In that case, thank you again for convincing mother not to send our army to that damn hill to die with the rest of our fellow Vassal Kings. How close is your cousin to gaining the Griffon People's support?"

"According to her latest letter, very close. Of course, all her future ambitions depend on her surviving the walking dead."

"Then I hope she's properly grateful when we arrive to save her." Alia stated, "And that she, in turn, will offer her support when we make our own move."

"Do not worry. My cousin keeps to her word; when the time comes, she'll return the favor." 

* * *

_Dwarven Camp_

"There you go girl." Dolvana, hunter of the Storm Ram tribe, said as she fed her squirrel a handful of acorns, "Eat up, cause soon you'll be tearing rotting flesh from bone."

"Hmph." Kregan said as he approached her, "I don't know how you can stand riding that thing. Looks unsafe, especially when it climbs those trees."

"And I don't know how you can properly fight with that iron rod up yer ass, or all that hair dangling from your chin." she shot back, "Aren't you afraid you'll trip on it?"

Kregan bristled but said nothing; he had learned not to take the bait.

"What do you need Thane?" she asked, taking a brush from her belt and began grooming her mount, "I know it's not for my stunning conversation skills."

"Just making the rounds." he replied, "And ta make sure everyone's prepared. We're going to be fighting the undead after all."

"Don't you worry about, we Storm Rams don't run from a fight, especially if it's against the unnatural. Instead worry about your dawi. They're not used to traveling at our pace."

Kregan sighed as he rubbed his temple. Talking to Dolvana was always a trial, not least because of her utterly irreverent attitude, a common trait among her people. Though sarcastic, her people were also hard working, communal, and brave.

They were also not dawi.

The Nomads, as they called themselves, were vastly different from the Dawi that Kregan knew. They had no great halls, no famed smiths, no hordes of gold... instead they dwelt in the forests far from the eyes of the umgi, and made their tools from carved wood and leather, what poor quality metal they were able to forge went into weapons, or, if they were relatively wealthy, like a Tribal Leader, they made simple chainmail armor.

Such things, while surprising, did not make them not dawi in Kregan's eyes; many of his people, refugees from fallen holds, lived similar lives, though perhaps not in the forests.

What made them not dawi were their attitudes towards... everything.

They respected their ancestors, but did not revere them the way Kregan did (they're dead, why should I care what they think?). They innovated, without going through the proper testing period that the Smiths lived by, paying no heed to potential consequences in the long term (A century for testing? Are you out of your damn minds?). Longbeards (if you could even call them that) were not given the proper respect that they should. They shaved their beards, keeping it trim, or in some cases, completely clean shaven (It was in the way, or It was itchy.)!

That, and more serious differences, had convinced Kregan that these people were not his kin, despite any visual similarities. Disappointing news for the High King, but they were dawi; they had become used to disappointment.

"I know that look." Dolvana said, "That's your "disappointed" face."

"I do not have a disappointed face."

"You most certainly do; you have it everytime I have to explain something about my people." she explained, "It's not my fault your people can't be proper dwarves like us."

Kregan felt his eye twitch at that. He was so, _so_ tempted to take the bait, but he would not give her the pleasure.

"Don't worry about it dawi." Dolvana continued, patting him on the shoulder, "You fight well enough, and no one can take that away from you."

With that, she made her way back to her tent, leaving Kregan and the squirrel alone with each other.

"Yer master is a pain in the neck, you know that?" Kregan asked the beast. It only chirped at him in response, making Kregan sigh again.

"And now I'm speaking to a damned beast... where's that wizard? I need to get drunk."

 _2nd Week of the Siege_

 _Sadera, Capital of the Empire_

"Completely surrounded." Molt said as he looked over the reports concerning his daughter's campaign, "Alnus is completely surrounded."

"Well, that is unfortunate." Diabo El Caesar, current 1st Prince said from across the table, "On the bright side, according to the spies, they've been holding out against the undead. Also, my spies in the west report that General Marius is marching his entire army to her aid. At the last report, they are somewhere between one to two weeks away."

"Good." Molt stated, trying to hide his relief; even if it was his son, it would not do for him to appear emotional. That gave the impression of weakness.

Every night he went through this; Diabo would bring him reports from spies and secret projects that they did not want the Senate to know about. Compared to the last few months, this meeting was tame, with only a few items on the agenda.

"We also have good news on the Forge." Diabo went on, picking up another stack of parchment, "And I think you will be pleased. The expert that Bruno brought to us has already begun to construct his equipment. He constantly mewls about how our metal is nothing compared to his people's, but other than that, he claims to be able to deliver. Though, he does require more slaves to meet the numbers you eventually want."

"Then give him the slaves." Molt said, "We have plenty of those. Why he cannot accept human blacksmiths as assistants though is beyond me. Still, if he can deliver..."

"I will see to it at once." Diabo nodded, "After I finish the recruitment report; we have successfully raised a quarter the men to replace the ones we lost when the Gate first opened. Training is slow, however, and all of them are inexperienced and untested. Still, the rebuilt legions will be enough to intimidate the eastern vassals into compliance."

"Good news, though I am disappointed in setbacks in rebuilding the legions. Is there anything else to report?"

"Yes; my spies in Alnus have reported that Pina is following your orders wonderfully; already, she and that Erhardt barbarian are sharing a bed, though there is no confirmation as to if they have-"

"What?!" Molt shouted, taking Diabo aback, "Why is Pina sleeping with him?"

"Because you ordered her to."

"I have ordered her to do many things for the good of Sadera; but I did not order her to whore herself out to a barbarian!"

"You ordered her to do more than that. You also ordered her to marry him, and later murder-"

"Marriage?! With an Outlander? I am not so desperate to see him dead that I would resort to using my own daughter as an assassin, to murder her own husband, barbarian outlander he may be. It goes against the god's laws... What if she became pregnant by him?"

"Your letter accounted for that actually; it told her to either terminate the pregnancy herself, or simply sell it into slavery later."

Molt looked enraged, but confused, which in turn deeply concerned Diabo.

"Who authorized this latter?"

"I was the one who sent the message to Pina, for it had your seal upon it." Diabo said, "I thought it was your Imperial Will."

"My seal? THe only people who have access to my seal are myself, my slave, and none others... except..."

Molt narrowed his eyes.

"Excuse me son." he said, standing up and then turning around, "I must gather the Imperial Guard; I need to have a talk with someone."

===

Later that night

Located close to the palace, it was a lovely villa, owned by the Imperial Family, and used to house guests of honor. For some time now, it had been the home of Molt's irregular adviser. However, the old man had dismissed all the slaves and servants. When questioned why, he explained that he preferred privacy, the only other inhabitant being the expert he had brought with him... well, the expert, and the white raven that was constantly perched on his shoulder.

Arresting one man would be easier without a dozen slaves running around like a harpy with her head cut off.

The main door splintered, destroyed by a portable ram, and over a dozen purple and black armored guards swarmed into the room, followed closely by Molt, clad in plate armor.

"Find that man!" he ordered, "Put him in irons and bring him before me!"

His men saluted and went to do as ordered, when cackling filled the air. Molt recognized the voice instantly.

"Bruno!" he shouted, "Come out and face your Emperor! You have much to explain for!"

Footsteps, along with the sound of a staff on marble, heralded the arrival of Bruno from the shadows of one of the villa's painted pillars. Molt's guards immediately formed a circle around their liege, swords out and shields up.

"Mighty Emperor Molt, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit at this hour?"

"I am here to put you in chains Bruno, for impersonating me by stealing the Imperial Seal, and issuing orders to my people. Now, come quietly; I would hate for my men to break your bones just by manhandling you lightly."

"Ah yes, a crack at my age... how original." Bruno said dismissively, "However, I have no desire to go to any dungeon, so no, you pompous blowhard, I shall not go with you... though you may try to take me if you wish."

"You brought this upon yourself, though in truth I wanted you to resist."

Molt snapped his fingers and his men advanced, one of them taking chains from his belt.

That was when everything went wrong.

Something large moved from behind another pillar, and intercepted the guards. With a single blow, he cleaved a man in two, through armor and muscle, like it was nothing, before then standing in front of Bruno. He was clad in thick black plate armor, with a helmet made to look like a horned skull, and in each hand he carried a sword that Molt would need both hands to lift only one.

"You are very lucky that I was here, sorcerer." he said, his voice muffled by the metal helm.

"I did not require you help." Bruno stated, "But I will accept it."

Molt turned around to face the broken door, and began moving towards it, his men backing up to cover him.

"Oh no, we can't have that." Bruno said, and wit ha few taps of his cane, a magical barrier sealed off Molt from escape.

"We can't have you leaving just yet Molt." Bruno said, then turning to the warrior, "Now then, do as you will with the guards, but leave Molt alive; I still have use for him."

He moved faster than anyone his size had any right to. With every blink of an eye, the armored warrior was upon Molt's Imperial Guards, slaying them one after another.

Molt cursed himself; for listening to Bruno, for not keeping a better eye on Pina, and for letting his anger take hold of his reason, willingly walking into this trap, and getting his guards, whom he had and picked for their loyalty, slaughtered like pigs.

With a sickening noise, the warrior severed the last Imperial Guard's head from his shoulders, using his swords like a pair of barber's shears.

Only Molt Sol Augustus was left now. He was frightened, but he refused to let anyone see it. Instead, he drew his own blade, and held it in both hands. Bruno had said that he wanted him alive, but he would be damned if he fell into the hands of a snake like him.

"Really?" the warrior asked as he looked at Molt's sword, "You just saw what I did to your minions. You think just because Bruno wants you alive I won't brutalize you?"

"I am an Emperor." Molt said, "And I will die as an Emperor."

"You'll die undignified." the warrior replied, throwing his swords to the ground, "But at least I can give you an advantage."

Molt charged him, and aimed for the warrior's neck, the only gap he could see. The tip was a hair's breadth away from the neck when the warrior's hand shot out and grabbed the blade, holding in place.

"A good effort." he said, "You even aimed for my most vulnerable spot... but it's not enough."

He twisted his wrist and the blade broke in two. His other arm then snapped out and grabbed Molt by the neck, applying pressure to it, cutting off air.

"I've waited for this _for so long_." he said, now choking him with both hands, "You, helpless before _me_ , with my hands around your _throat_."

"I want him alive!" Bruno snapped.

"Silence!" the warrior said, "You can have what's left of him when I'm done with him! This bastard needs to suffer!"

"Oh, he will, I promise. After all, the worst you can do is kill him. Give him to me, and I will ensure that his suffering is eternal."

The warrior thought for a few seconds, then released Molt, who immediately began gasping for breath.

"Quite the silver tongue you have there Bruno." he said, "Be careful that it does not pay for things that your body cannot cover. Fine, he's yours, after I get a moment with him."

"By all means." Bruno replied, "Have your fun."

"Good."

The warrior kicked Molt in the stomach, denting the plate with the force of his blow.

"I've waited a long time to do that as well." he said, "All of these years, agonizing over what I'd do to you once I got the chance. What the sorcerer has planned eclipses anything I could do with just my hands, but I think I'll settle for the look on your face."

"Who in Hardy's hell are you?" Molt said, spitting out blood.

"I'm your enemy old man."

"I've many enemies, you'll have to be more specific."

"Then let me narrow it down for you. For the most part, your enemies are political, barbarians from afar, or demihumans. My enmity is far more personal. You see, I'm doing this to avenge someone you had killed... though, you've killed many, so I'll be more clear.

"I'm killing you for what you did to Prince Septimus."

Molt's eyes widened.

"Septimus? Why? Who was he to you? Who... who are you?"

He chuckled, "I'll show you."

With both hands, he removed his helmet, exposing his face for Molt to see; and it was the last face Molt ever expected.

It was the face of his dead son, the late Crown Prince of the Empire...

Zorzal El Caesar.

"Hello father." Zorzal said, grinning a smug smile, "Been a while, hasn't it. By the look on your face, I can safely say that you weren't expecting to see me ever again."

"Zorzal..." Molt whispered, "But, how? You died. Beheaded, they brought back what was left of your body-"

"They did, didn't they?" Zorzal asked, tossing his helmet into the air and then catching it, "Good for them, recovering the body of their prince, though I doubt any of them liked me very much. A small price to pay for this moment however."

"How did you cheat death? I recognized your corpse, there was no way it could have been a body double!"

"Truthfully? The dwarf did kill me. To be expected when I told them I cut off one of the beard of one of their scouts; they're quite sensitive about such things you see, but then I knew that, and I also knew that death by angered dwarf, in front of an entire army, was the best way to make everyone think I was dead, which would then allow me to work with greater freedom.

"You see father, I did die that day... but I had this body as a spare, one where my soul would go to after my original body died. There are differences between my original and this one; I am stronger, faster, but I no longer have any desires for wine, food, and women that I did in the past. As for my blood..."

Zorzal drew a dagger, and cut his cheek. Instead of red blood, a milky white liquid came out instead.

"Obviously, I no longer have the same blood as a normal man, for I no longer am a normal man. I miss women the most, but I can live with it, especially since what I gained outweighs what I lost."

"How is this possible; how is any of this possible?"

"Oh, that's simple." Zorzal explained, pointing his thumb over his shoulder at Bruno, "I've been working with sorcerers like him for years, over a decade in fact. They created this body for me, and arranged the ritual that would draw my soul into it upon my death. You see, our cabal is going to change things here in Falmart, waiting for the Gate to open. Unfortunately, you will never get a chance to see our new world. Instead, you'll be suffering for all eternity... or you should be, otherwise I'll send Bruno to meet you."

"Why are you doing this Zorzal?"

"Why? I already told you father."

Zorzal knelt down, and spit in Molt's face.

"I'm doing this for my brother, _Septimus_."


	14. Chapter 13

_2nd Week of the Siege_

Imperial Palace, Sadera

Diabo El Caesar paced back and forth in the Emperor's study, anxiously awaiting the return of the Emperor. He had stormed off so angry, gathering his guards to arrest the the adviser. Under normal circumstances, this should have been a simple task, but the prince suspected that nothing about this situation was normal.

It was then that the door opened, and Molt entered the room with his bodyguards.

"Father, what happened?" Diabo asked, "What has become of Bruno?"

"I... overreacted." Molt said, "Bruno has convinced me that he had nothing to do with the theft of my seal. We will have to investigate elsewhere. For now, it is time to sleep."

"Are you certain father?"

"I am. This has been a long day, made longer by my little excursion. Now, we all need sleep. We will continue our discussions in the morning."

"Of course father. Goodnight."

"Goodnight Diabo."

With that, Diabo left his father's chambers, smiling to himself as he traveled down the halls.

After a few minutes, he reached his room, and sat down in one of his luxurious chairs, leaning back in it and sighing.

"Was he convincing?" a voice rang out, and Zorzal, clad in full armor, stepped out from behind a corner of the room.

"He admitted to making a mistake." Diabo replied, "You might want to tell the Old Man that he needs to stop him from making a habit of that in the future, otherwise the little men of the Senate will become suspicious."

"I'll be sure to keep that in mind." Zorzal replied, leaning against the wall, "Thank you again for sending him our way brother; removing him from the board allows us more freedom than ever before."

"I graciously accept your thanks. So, did you enjoy it? Whatever it is that Bruno did to him?" Diabo asked.

"I enjoyed beating him more than whatever that old snake could possibly do to him." Zorzal answered, "Though, I admit that this way means fewer questions. People would become suspicious should Molt Sol Augustus sudden;y die in the villa of a foreigner."

"It was the right move Zorzal, and I am glad that you recognized that."

"Do not patronize me little brother; remember, I only acted the fool."

"Apologies; it will take some getting used to."

"Then I consider myself an accomplished actor. Perhaps I should apply for the role of Sader in "Fall of Aelec?"

Diabo laughed.

"That may not be a poor idea brother; would give you something to do while others plot, though I recommend you find a disguise; it would not do for the people to see a supposedly dead prince in the theater."

"Naturally, though you would have to admit, that would be quite a sight though."

Diabo smiled again, but then turned serious.

"Have you any regrets brother?"

"What brought this on?"

"We are moving into the endgame, after years of planning. Call it sentiment, but I wish to know all the same."

"... I miss my old body. True, this one is twice as strong, but I do miss sex. What of you? What are your regrets?"

"My regret... is that we did not bring Pina into our circle."

"Bah, that girl." Zorzal scoffed, "Sister she may be, but she would never have joined us; she was loyal to father. She did not know Septimus like we did... though perhaps if she is intelligent enough, she will join us when the time comes."

* * *

 _Fort Griffin, 2nd Week of the Siege_

"Argh..." Erhardt grunted as he removed his shirt, flinching as his shoulder protested in pain.

"Still not better yet?" Pina asked as she sat at the bed, brushing her red hair.

"No." he replied bitterly, "I'll have to see the Sisters tomorrow, see to getting it healed."

"When we go to your homeland, remind me to bring back with me to open a hospital in Sadera; the Dove's healing arts will certainly be welcome here."

"As my lady commands."

Erhardt threw his shirt to the floor and walked over to the bed, laying down slowly, wincing all the while. Pina then set down her brush, and settled down next to him.

"You know, I recall you saying that we should stop doing this." Erhrdt pointed out as wrapped an arm around her.

"Yes, well, that was before it became so convenient. Besides, it is not as if anything has happened."

"Still, you know we won't be able to do this once we enter my homeland."

"I am well aware... that does not man that I have to like it; I don't want to loose my favorite pillow."

Erhardt chuckled at that.

"You'll live somehow."

"Of course I will; I am a Princess of Sadera after all. Though tell me, truthfully... how likely is your father to accept our plans?"

"The truth? I do not know. Father is pragmatic, and unless we bring him proof that we can succeed... or if we offer him something in return."

"Fair enough." Pina said, "I know this is a long shot... but I am not completely without things to offer."

Erhardt grunted in agreement, before his expression turned thoughtful.

"I have to ask... how do you feel about turning on your people?"

"I don't think I am. I know it seems as if I am acting like scorned woman, taking vengeance on those who insulted her, but my father is not acting the way he once was. He could be strict, harsh even, but he did not send our men into the grinder, nor involve the Empire in fights when diplomacy was still an option. I'm not worried about your people destroying us... but I am worried that if this continues, the vassals and the ambitious will tear the Empire apart, and the Age of Blood will return. So, I will harden my heart, and turn my sword on my own family if I must. I suppose I should be thankful that my mother has passed... that way, she won't have to see me do this."

"Do you have any other family that you care about?"

"I used to care about my father before... before he lost his way. I was never close to any of my brothers though. Zorzal and Diabo were always too busy, and they say my interest in knights as a joke, at best. While it will be a trial to fight Diabo, I will not hesitate when the time comes."

* * *

As Tuka Luna Marceau slept beside her lover, comfortably warm, even in the middle of a siege, she dreamed. This was nothing new, but as of late, her dreams had become more and more pleasant. She dreamed of the past, of her village, her family and friends before the dragon came.

Those were good dreams, even if they made her sad as much as they did happy. She did not have that dream tonight though.

Instead, she dreamed of the future.

 _An elf child was born, though at the cost of a life. Whose, she could not say._

 _He grows quickly, but he is different from others, in more ways than one. His features are light, lighter than even Prince Erhardt's after his transformation, but his eyes are bright, like hers._

 _Like his father, he becomes a warrior, skilled in the sword. Like his mother, he learns skills by sight, and as quickly as an arrow flies. Unlike either of them though, he learns at the feet of master mages, honing his arcane might._

 _Clad in armor of midnight black, blood and death fill his life, and he carves his way through a host of foes. War follows him like a dark specter, inescapable and unrelenting._

 _He finds a sword of legend... a dark sword, whispering into the ears of its wielder, telling them to kill, and kill again. It will lead him into either glory, or ruin._

 _There is a throne of gems, waiting for someone to claim it. Does he take it for himself, or does he cast it down forever more?_

It was then that she awoke with a gasp, eyes wide open.

What was it she saw? A dream, brought on by worry? If it was, then why did she see the things she did, things she had never seen before in her life. Why did she feel so much dread? What god had sent those images to her while she slept?

Out of everything she did not know, there was but one thing she was certain of; the elf in the dream was her son. If this dream was a premonition, a vision of things to come, then that meant her son would survive his birth! Only then to face a life of hardships and trials, bloody handed, and hounded by foes.

What was worse, was not what she saw, but what she did not see... she did not see herself, nor Vanon, anywhere at all.

She placed a hand over her womb, and offered a silent prayer to her patron, Luunaryur, and then one to Vanon's gods, asking them to protect her unborn son.

For weeks now, Vanon's fear was of her not surviving the pregnancy and birth.

For Tuka, her fear was of what came after.

* * *

 _The beaches of the Aesling controled island, midnight_

"It's weird to see you out of your Apostle clothes." Giselle said as she watched Rory covered her body in black clothes, "I thought yo prefered to simply charge in, kill everyone, and get your answers from the survivors... before killing them too."

"That is my preferred way of doing things." Rory replied, "But Emroy is the God of War; and there's more to war than just killing. Spies are an important part of battle; gain information on your enemy, without even knowing that they're there."

"Huh. I never would have expected this side of you."

"You should see me set up a supply train; no army I ever marched with went hungry so long as they let me into the command tent while they talked strategy."

Rory then threw a hood over her head, then grabbed a knife and hastened it to her waist. She turned to Giselle and pointed at her axe.

"Do not let anything happen to it. Keep it out of the spray of seawater, and don't let any birds relieve themselves on it. That weapon is older than you, some gods, and most of the Western Vassal Kingdoms."

"I'll keep that in mind." Giselle said with a nod, "Good luck Reaper; don't get caught."

"Thank you, but if I get caught, then even with a dagger I'm still perfectly capable of killing everyone there."

With that, Rory took off towards the settlement, blending into the shadows.

Rory Mercury, Rory the Reaper to her friends, gritted her teeth in frustration every time she sneaked her way by one of this settlement's inhabitants, and had to resist the urge to stab them.

Oh, how she longed to throw herself into an orgy of violence!... But she had a job to do, and the best way to do it was to ensure that none of them knew that she was here.

Rory and Giselle had been tracking the one responsible for the daemon at Italica for months now. The old man, as the defeated bandits had described him, was a crafty bastard, and had managed to stay more than two steps ahead of them. Eventually, they lost his trail, and any hope of finding the source of their gods' silence.

It was rumors that had led them to this island... tales of strange lights, and how no ship sailing there had ever returned. With little else to go on, other than the fact that the Old Man had first appeared in the north, the two apostles had charted a boat, and started sailing. To be honest, neither demigod expected to find anything, driven skeptical by the many months of false leads and near misses.

So, to actually find a settlement dedicated to the "Chaos Gods," as they were apparently called, was the break that they needed. They could have gone in, killing everything, but that was not a good way to get information, and who knows? Perhaps there were more of those daemons like Jhuin in this camp. Best to be sure, than to make a mistake.

Thankfully, there were few people here; a surprise really, considering the size of the settlement. She was reminded of towns after the men had gone of to war; they were like this, mostly empty, leaving those unfit for battle behind.

So far, she was undetected. None of the handful of warriors, nor the women and children, knew that she was here. Still silent, Rory had made her way to the largest building in the settlement; that was usually where the men in charge gathered.

Unfortunately, where she got there, it had turned out to be a glorified dining hall, with some rooms in the back where a number of children were sleeping.

Interestingly enough, quite a few of the children were warrior-rabbits. They were far from home indeed.

Whatever the explanation behind the children was, Rory could find nothing in the way of documents; no scrolls, letters, or books of any kind. Perhaps they were not literate.

Discouraged, Rory had left the long hall, only to then catch sight of something very interesting.

The entire settlement had been built at the foot of a mountain, with the longhall within spitting distance of a wall of stone... and a cavemouth, guarded by several men, and illuminated by torches.

It was the only thing on this island that was deliberately guarded... which meant they were hiding something of great importance there., which in turn meant that she was going in, though she'd have to deal with the guards first.

Rory smiled as she drew her knife. It looked as if tonight was not going to be a waste after all... 

* * *

Keeping her hand against the wall, Rory walked down the path. She had been walking for around ten minutes, her eyes adjusting to the dark. Killing the guards and hiding the bodies was not as fun as she thought it was going to be; alas, such was the nature of scouting.

She froze as she began to hear noise; voices, though she could not make out what they were saying. She could also make out oddly colored lights further down. She was definately on the right track. As quiet as a breeze, she continued on her way. As she got close and closer, the voices were becoming louder, and the glow of the light was brighter. Eventually she turned a corner... and gasped at what she saw.

It was a massive underground cavern, filled with rickety wooden structures, connected by walkways and bridges that even Rory, lithe as she was, was skeptical that it could hold her weight. Green fires burned everywhere, and strange contraptions lined the walls, all meeting together in the center of a raised platform, upon which stood the last thing she ever expected to see;

A Gate.

It was a twisted mockery of the Gate that opened on Alnus, with the massive doorway constructed out of what appeared to be human bones, and instead of the bright blue that the Alnus Gate was colored, this one was a deep green. It also looked incredibly unstable, from the way that the machines that were connected to it were vibrating, and making worrying noises.

Unlike the Gate on Alnus, or the Gate controlled by the Asur Elves, this portal was created by a different power, one that made its malice and hatred felt through to her bones.

On the platform before the Gate was a group of people, though she could not make out their figures well. Seeking a better look, she made her way up another path, one that overlooked the platform, staying careful to remain out of sight.

When she reached a good height, she hid behind an outcrop of stone, and looked down at the platform, finally getting a good look at whomever these people were.

One was short, probably some sort of dwarf, though he looked nothing like the nomads she had seen before, for he wore red and black armor, and had on a ridiculous hat that was perhaps about as tall as the entirety of it's owner's body. He, and it was a he if that long, black beard was anything to go by, was flanked on either side by two similarly sized humanoids clad in thick black late, and armed with weapons similar to the Outlander's rifles, except theirs also had axe blades on their muzzles.

The dwarf was arguing with someone, and when she took a closer look, she saw that it was not human either, but a demihuman... specifically, a rat demihuman. It wore tattered grey robes, a loose leather mask, and had horns growing out of the back of its head. Behind it were two more rat demis, clad in rusty armor, but holding vicious looking spears. The lead rat was pointing an accusing finger at the dwarf, and yelling at the top of its lungs.

"- which is why I-we need need more warpstone! Good-best way of powering Gate yes-yes!" the rat said in a surprisingly squeaky voice.

"In case you have not noticed you disgusting creature, but we do not have any more spare warpstone!" the dwarf shouted, "Which is why we need to use slaves instead! Their life-force will power the Gate, and allow us to open it whenever we wish!"

"Bah! Fire dwarf-thing not know what he speak-shout about!" the rat said with a dismissive wave of its hand "Too busy making rifle-guns for Saderan man-things, yes-yes! No understand how Gate work-work!"

"If I recall correctly Skaven, I was the one who built half of the machines here! I daresay I know more in a single digit than you do in your entire diseased body!"

"Fire dwarf-thing be careful, lest it insult Grey Seer for last-last time!" the rat said threatingly, "Will kill fire dwarf-thing myself!"

"Enough." a third voice said, but while the dwarf was gruff, and the rat squeaky, this one was clear as water.

A portal, but much smaller than the Gate, about he size of the man, appeared, and through it stepped a man, dressed in black robes, and walking with a staff. Rory became excited for a second; was this her quarry, at long lost?

Her spirits soon fell as she caught a better look at him; his face was obscured by bandages, and then further hidden by the hood of his cloak, but Rory could tell that this was a young man, and not her elderly prey.

"You bicker like children." the newcomer said, "Save it for another day; need I remind you that tonight is a full moon?"

"Charlatan, I am merely trying to explain to this rat that we cannot use warpstone that we do not have, but he refuses to understand that simple fact!"

"Grey-Seer no idiot-fool! Grey Seer know of how to get more warpstone!"

"And how? We wait for the Gate to open again in a month?"

"No-no! We reclaim warpstone given to dead-things!"

"And how do we do that? Last I checked, von Carstein has a whole army between us and him!"

"Dead bloodsucker is distracted by war with man-things and elf-things yes-yes! Have agents near there! Take warpstone while battle if fought! Return it here, power machine!"

"It is too risky, transporting warpstone across open countryside, in enemy territory." the dwarf said, "They'd never make it back here. Now, by sacrificing slaves, we can achieve the same effect through ritual. All we need is enough slaves to offer up to the Father of Darkness, and we can have the Gate open in a matter of weeks, instead of months!"

"We have not so many slaves that we can sacrifice them all to empower the Gate." the third man said, "Most of them are already working in your forge, are they not?"

"Then get more slaves! Hashut knows this land has enough of them!"

"Then we risk unfriendly eyes casting their gaze upon us! People will wonder whom it is that buys so many chattel slaves, and where they go once they are bought. Even then, there is no guarantee that your sacrifices to Hashut will be enough."

"Do not tell me you back the warpstone plan, Charlatan!"

"I do Belrik. Reclaiming the warpstone given to the traitor Mannfred is already a priority, and now we have an opportunity to take back what is ours, and to put it to use. Grey Seer, you have my support in this matter; take back the warpstone."

"Yes-yes! Consider it already done-finished!"

"In the meantime Belrik, I will return you to your forge in Sadera. Finish construction there, and then begin to craft."

"Grrr... fine. Do not come mewling to me when the Thaggoraki's plan blows up in his face like what happened to-"

"Compare me not to him, fire dwarf-thing!" the ratman shouted, "Or else I will kill... kill..."

The rat began to sniff the air.

"What is it?" the dwarf, Belrik, asked, "Finally smelling yourself _rat_?"

"I sniff-smell blood!" he exclaimed, "Old-old blood! Beneath that though is... _man-thing_ , coming from..."

The rat quickly snapped hits arm in the direction of Rory's hiding spot, and from a grabby paw, unleashed a bolt of blackish-green lightning. Rory barely ducked her head back behind the rock as the lightning shot past her and hit the wall, sending debris everywhere.

"There-there! Intruder! Sneak-Spy! Man-Thing!" it shouted, "Clanrats! Slave Rats! All Rats, find-kill bloody man-thing intruder! Forth Clan Fester, bring me her head!"

Suddenly, the entire cavern came alive, and out from every structure came scores of ratmen, stampeding up walkways, and climbing up the stone walls, with each rat's beady red eyes glowing in the darkness. In response, Rory immediately darted down the path, running towards the tunnel that she had come through.

Rory was not afraid., but she was not stupid either. She could kill dozens of rats, even with her knife, but they could still swarm her, and take her down that way, and she was not looking forward to spending Emroy only knows how many hours of them trying to kill her and failing.

Rory could not die, but you could be amazed at what she could live through, and her gut told her that these rats were the creative type.

So, new plan; get back to the boat, grab her axe and Giselle, and come back here to kill them all. It was simple, but complicated by the fact that there would be scores of rat demihumans between her and her axe.

"Drawing her dagger, Rory stabbed an encroaching rat inbetween the eyes, then grabbed it's rusty sword out of its hands before it touched the ground, and began to carve her way threw to the boat, and he freedom to slaughter as many rats as she could. 

* * *

"She's getting away!" Belrik, exiled daemonsmith shouted, "The thaggoraki won't be enough to bring her back!"

"I no-see your servant-lackeys chase-killing!" Rasknitt, Grey Seer of Clan Fester bellowed at the Chaos Dwarf, "Norscan man-things fault! Let sneak-spy through! Skaven fix man-thing's mistakes!"

"Enough arguing!" the third man, Charlatan, said, "We need to capture the intruder, at once! Did you see the way that she slaughtered those rats? She is not a mere human, but an Apostle, though of which god, I cannot say."

"An Apostle, here?" Belrik asked, "Just what we need; if half the tales the lesser races that reside in these lands are true, then she could ruin everything we have accomplished here!"

"Stay here and guard the Gate, Belrik." Charlatan said "I shall go with the clanrats and find her-"

Suddenly a booming noise came from the gate, and all who stood upon the platform turned around.

"Someone is coming through." Charlatan stated.

Slowly emerging from the Gate came a dozen warriors, clad in exotic armor, painted in the color of royal purple. After them came a single man, wearing armor much like the ones before but thicker, and more ornate, and he also wore a mask carved in the likeness of a foreign monster, and painted with a stylized version of the symbol of the Dark Prince.

"Daimyo, we were not expecting you." Charlatan said.

"The Three Eyed King has sent me." Daimyo stated with a thick accent, "I am to appraise your progress, and report back to him when next the Gate opens."

"I would be happy to share with you our current strategy, but we currently have an intruder that we must deal with. She has infiltrated the island, and has seen the Gate. What is more, we believe that she is one of the rumored Apostles of this land."

"An Apostle you say... immortal warriors of the gods. I will assist you in killing her." he replied, "But only so that the glory will be mine."

"What good will more man-things do in the chase-kill!" Rasknitt sneered, "Leave to Fester! Fester will claim sneak-spy!"

"You doubt my capabilities? If we did not have an arrangement with your Clan, I would have your horned head for that. Regardless, I was not asking for you permission, _rodent_." Daimyo snarled, "While my men stay here, we will hunt the intruder."

"We? Someone will be joining you? One of us?" Belrik asked.

"None of you." Daimyo answered, stepping aside so he did not block the Gate, "I refer to _him_."

It was at that moment, one step at a time, that a monster came threw the Gate, eager for blood.

This was no mere beast, but a creature of ages past, awakened to do battle once more in the name of the Dark Gods.

It was a dragon ogre, and in its hands was an axe older than the Empire.

"Do you doubt me now, vermin?" Daimyo asked, "Now, excuse me, I have an Apostle to slay."

* * *

Running as fast as her legs could carry her, Rory lashed out with her stolen sword every time one of the rats came close to her. She needed to get to the beach; to Giselle, and to her axe. Then she could kill everything on this damn island, and tear down that heretical gate.

If she was out in the open, she could have easily built up enough speed to outrun them, but the confines of the tunnel, and its many twists and turns, meant that the rats were able to keep pace with her.

Another rat leaped out of the shadows, tackling her to the ground. Using her superior strength, Rory grabbed the creature by the head and snapped it's neck in a single motion. She then kicked the foul corpse off of her and immediately started running again, picking up her fallen weapons, mindful that the horde was even closer behind her now than it was a second ago.

She could hear more of them up ahead; it would seem that she was going to have to go threw them if she wanted to get out of this damn hole in the ground.

She felt one of the rats land on her back, but Rory quickly reached back, stabbed it in the eye with her knife, then grabbed it by the scruff of it's neck and held it in front of her like a human-er, ratman shield. When she finally came head to head with the mob of rats in front of her, she simply barreled through them, using the rat corpse as a battering ram, sending the walking vermin flying in every direction.

She would be lying if she said that she did not take pleasure in hearing their frightened squeaks of confusion of being barreled over by their comrade's body.

The hint of moonlight caught her eye; she was getting closer to the exit, she just needed to keep go-

A loud screech shook the air as Rory heard footsteps, which were so heavy that they managed to drown out the dozens that were already chasing her. Looking over her shoulder, Rory saw a giant, muscular, rat, grotesquely shaped, and more than twice the size of the others, charging through the other rodents, uncaring if any were crushed beneath its feet.

As if she needed any more motivation to get out of this damn tunnel.

Lucky for her, the entrance was just up ahead.

Throwing aside the rat she was carrying, she sprinted the last stretch, finally making it outside... and headlong into the humans who were living here, all armed with fierce looking axes.

"Drepa Sinn!" she heard one of them shout, and then they threw a dozen axes were thrown at her, two striking her in the chest, sinking into her flesh, and almost knocked her over.

"Thanks for giving me some better weapons." she said with a grin as she grabbed the axes by the handles and ripped them out of her body, allowing her divine healing to repair the damage, "Allow me to return the favor!"

Rory then charged into the mass of humans, carving into them with the axes, hacking into faces, splintering shields, and liberating hands from arms as she cut a path through them.

Cries of foreign words filled the air, but were quickly drowned out when the rats arrived. Rory was reluctant to end her fun so soon, but she knew what her priorities were. So, with a single powerful jump, she leaped onto the roof of a building, away from the mob below, and ran towards the beach, jumping from rooftop to rooftop as needed, before jumping off the last one, and making a beeline to the beach, Giselle, and her axe.

After a minute of running, she came to the edge of the hill of sand, and saw her fellow apostle, her was currently practicing with her scythe.

"Giselle!" Rory shouted as she leaped down next to her, "Get ready to fight!"

"What are we up against?" Giselle asked as she reached into the boat and took out Rory's axe, throwing the large weapon to her, "As bad as we expected?"

"Worse." Rory admitted, dropping her knife and borrowed sword, and grabbing her axe, "They have their own gate in a cave."

"A gate? How is that possible? Only My Lady can open and close those."

"Well, they had to have come to this world somehow but right now it doesn't matter. What does matter is that I'm being chased by dozens of rat demihumans, and they should be showing up right-"

She was cut off when the rats began swarming over the hill, all shrieking together as a single horrible voice, led by the large mutant.

Rory and Giselle shared a nod, and then leaped into action, each apostle, both armed with their weapon of choice, slaying several rats with each swing. Scores of them fell in seconds to the combined onslaught of the demigods.

When the mutant charged Rory, reaching out with both of its grotesque, muscular arms, she simply jumped into the air, and cleaved it in two with a single swing.

With the death of their large friend, the other rats seemed to have lost their nerve, and some began to retreat, pushing past each other, and crunching some of the smaller ones underfoot.

"They're retreating." Giselle pointed out, bisecting six rats at once, "Should we go after them?"

"We have more important things to do." Rory replied, "We need to get off this island!"

"I don't think our rowboat boat will outrun those ships we saw earlier." Giselle pointed out, "Luckily for us, that's why I brought some friends."

"Friends? What are you-"

A louder roar pierced the air, and from behind the sand hill, a dozen rats were sent flying into the air, landing in heaps across the beach.

Emerging over the hill came an enormous monster; it was like a centaur, but it's lower body had scales and claws, and its upper body only bore a passing resemblance to a man, having more in common with a beast of the wilds. In its hands, it held aloft a giant waraxe, which dwarfed even Rory's weapon.

Without a word, it crashed through the ratmen mob, and slammed its axe down on Rory. The apostle used her speed to dodge out of the way, but just barely, and she barely had enough time to get out of the way again when the monster turned towards her again, axe swinging out to bisect her.

Giselle leaped towards it, aiming for its head with her scythe, but the monster had good reflexes, it quickly swung out with its left arm, and struck Giselle in midair, sending her flying to the ground, then returning its attention to Rory.

"Finally!" Rory shouted, "I didn't think I'd get a real challenge today!" 

* * *

"Cowards!" Rasknitt, Grey Seer of Clan Fester, bellowed at the retreating clanrats as he overlooked the skirmish below, "Cease your panic-flee! Kill-kill sneak-spies now, or else I will have you all flay yourselves with a rusty carve-knife, yes-yes!"

"Typical Skaven." the Daimyo said as he watched the dragon ogre fight the apostles, "Put a real foe before them, and they piss themselves in fear, and turn tail."

Rasknitt snarled at the Nipponese man before casting a bolt of warp lightning on the fleeing skaven, killing many in a single spell.

"Fight-kill them or die-die to me!" he shouted, "Make choice now!"

Needless to say, when faced between dying at the hands of two demigods, or at the paws of a Grey Seer, the clanrats wisely turned their attentions back to the apostles.

"Amazing..." the Charlatan said as he watched the dragon ogre fight Rory, "You have a dragon ogre under your command... how is that possible?"

"With this." the Daimyo said as he held aloft an orb made of purple glass, "The Shihai Suru Kyu, or Sphere of Domination in your barbarian tongues. I discovered this upon the Cursed Isle, in my homeland... the island where I found him. This artifact, a sacred relic of the Dark Prince, allows me to control over the dragon ogre's mind, making it a slave to my will; I control its every action, and to share our sight, so for as long as my gaze remains on the battle, nothing may take it by surprise."

As if to prove his point, the dragon like apostle leaped at the dragon ogre, only to be backhanded into the ground wit ha single swing of its left arm.

"Of the two, the one with the axe is the more dangerous." the Charlatan said, "Kill her first."

"I do not need you to dictate strategy to me sorcerer." the Daimyo exclaimed, "Do so again as I will take your head."

The Charlatan said nothing, but continued to watch the battle taking place; between the dragon ogre, the Skaven, and the encircling Northmen, soon the two Apostles would be surrounded.

Then they could find out just how immortal they really were. 

* * *

Rory was enjoying herself; she was fighting a worthy opponent, something that could actually give her a challenge, and which took her centuries of experience to keep pace with. She dodged and parried the monster's blows, while striking out at its forelegs with her axe; while she had landed some good hits, the monster's scales were like armor, and none of her attacks had managed to draw blood... so far.

They were, however, causing damage behind the scales; her axe was causing to, damage to the legs, just none that was visible. As of now, it was starting to favor its left leg, the one she had hit the most.

A cruel grin crept across her face; she had her next target.

Quickly dodging the next attack, Rory dashed towards the left leg, and put all the power she had into her swing, bringing it crashing against the leg, and she felt the bone break the instant she made contact with it. This in turn caused it to howl in pain, drop its axe, and then stumble and fall forward, forcing Rory to jump backwards or else be crushed to death. Once she cleared the body falling on the ground, she leaped into the air, and brought her axe down on its right shoulder, digging her axe deep into the monster's flesh.

Rory did not have long to savor her triumph however; the monster, fighting through the pain she had inflicted upon it, lashed out with its left arm, and grabbed her in its massive hand, trapping her, and then squeezed.

With a single lough crunch, it broke Rory Mercury's spine.

Any satisfaction it might have had however was undone as Giselle leaped onto its head from behind, and drove her scythe's blade into the monster's left eye, once more causing to it cry out in pain, and forcing it to drop Rory.

Giselle jumped down, grabbed Rory's still embedded axe on the way, and landed next to her fellow, now broken, Apostle.

"How are you doing Mercury?" Giselle asked with a smug tone.

"My spine has been broken." Rory sneered, "How the hell do you think I am doing!"

"As much as I would love to rub the fact that I just saved you in your face, our ride is here to get us off this forsaken island."

"Ride?" Rory asked.

As if answering her, the sound of wings heralded the arrival of two dragons, descending from the darkness of the night's sky, and each one breathing streams of fire down upon the rats,and on the monster.

"You have dragons?" Rory asked, incredulous, "Since when did you have dragons?"

"Since before we joined forces." Giselle said as she picked up Rory, "I wanted something in reserve in case we started fighting; a trump card if you will. They're only juveniles, but they're also flame dragons, much stronger than your average drake. As a bonus, they can get us off this island faster than that dinky rowboat ever could."

One of the dragons landed in front of the two apostles and lowered its head, as if it was bowing to Giselle.

"How do you expect me to ride one of those things as I am now?" Rory asked, "In case you've forgotten, I'm currently paralyzed from the neck down, and it'll take a few minutes to heal; I can't hold one like this, unless you want to tie me to its back."

"Well, I don't have any rope, so that plan is a no." Giselle said, "And he's just a baby, so he might drop you if he tried to hold you in his claws... which thankfully, leaves us with one full proof option.

"Open up." she ordered, and the dragon obeyed, opening it's jaws wide.

"You have to be joking." Rory said, completely unamused.

"No, but it will make me laugh later on." Giselle admitted, and placed Rory's body n the dragon's open mouth, "Don't worry, I'll carry your axe for you; just focus on healing."

"Giselle, I swear to all the gods, if you leave me in this dragon's mouth-"

The dragon in question closed its jaws, drowning out Rory. Giselle then patted it on the nose.

"Don't swallow her." she ordered, before then leaping onto its back.

"Fly!"

With that, it took off, followed by its sibling dragon, leaving the beach and its burning rats behind. 

* * *

"Well, this is a setback." the Daimyo said, watching the dragons fly away.

"So much for your dragon-ogre." Rasknitt sneered, "It no match for actual dragon!"

"Be quiet vermin." he replied, "Your skaven were of no help whatsoever-"

"If you two are done, then we must prepare to counter this." The Charlatan said, "The words of two apostles carry great weight in the Empire. They could rally an army against this island, before we are ready."

"Then we must hunt them down." the Daimyo stated, "With all the means at our disposal."

"I was thinking using more... subtle methods." the Charlatan said, "After all, they cannot rally an empire against us... if there is no empire to rally..."


	15. Chapter 14

The Second Siege of Alnus: The Third Week

Erhardt brought his spiked warhammer down on the skeleton's head, before then moving aside so that the pikemen could push the ladder off the walls. One of them said something to him, but he could barely hear the man; the shouting of tens of thousands, the roar of artillery, and the screeching of the enemy's monsters all but drowned it out.

All around him, men fought the dead with stalwart courage and fury. The wall that he commanded was assailed by dozens of ladders and siege towers, and thousands of the dead attempted to scale the walls. All around the Fort, the same scene was repeated over and over again.

The dead did not tire, did not hunger, and came at them again and again; unlike his men. Valient though they may be, Erhardt could see that they were reaching their breaking point. The Gate ensured that they always had a steady stream of food and supplies, but no reinforcements had yet come.

They had no other choice though; they rested when they could, precious hours in between attacks, ate when they could, and all the while, the defenders held the line, and would not allow a single foe over the wall.

"My devotion is my shield, it guardeth against the Lie." Erhardt shouted as he hammered the skull of a zombie, then sent another flying with a blow of his shield, "My faith is the hammer of Reason, that strikes down Untruth. The Light of Sigmar shineth through me, and before me no Darkness can prevail!"

Erhardt felt a flash of heat shoot past him, and strike an approaching zombie head on. It was liquified metal, and it burned the undead, and caused it to fall off the wall and to the ground below.

Erhardt turned around and nodded at the approaching figure of Supreme Patriarch Balthasar Gelt

"My thanks." he said, "I am honored to fight alongside you once more."

"Save your thanks for later." Gelt retorted, his mask giving his voice and echo, even in the chaos of battle, "Focus now on killing these monsters."

Gelt then spread his arms, and spoke in a language that Erhardt did not understand, but through the blessings of his armor, he could see the Gold Wind gather around the Supreme Patriarch.

Gelt unleashed the power of Chamon, the Gold Wind, and directed its power unto the undead below. A hail of magical energy, and every foe it touched it transformed; shifting rotting flesh into gleaming statues of gold.

With a single spell, Gelt ad managed to stop two score foes in their tracks… though many more remained.

* * *

"Why are we not making any progress?!" Remus von Carstein demanded as he snarled in the face of his vassal.

"All sides of the fort are well guarded." the vampire explained, "They hold against all we send against them."

"Useless!" Remus snarled, then turning to Mannfred, who was seated upon his throne, and sipping blood from hsi skull goblet, "Lord, allow me to lead the assault. I guarantee-"

"If you attack now, you will end the same way as the ones who went before you." Mannfred said almost lazily, "I was content to allow you, my servants, to take Alnus Hill, to show me just how far you have come since I granted you the kiss of eternal life… only to be disappointed by your constant failures. Well, my patience is at an end."

Mannfred stood, and tossed aside his goblet, storming past his vampire minions and mindless thralls, and moving in the direction of the Fort.

As he walked, Mannfred ignored the arrows, crossbow bolts, and bullets flying all around the battlefield. Instead, he called upon the Winds of Magic, and let the Wind of Death, Shyish, flow through him.

"For too long I have been content with allowing others to do my bidding." he called out, "Now, it is time for the true Emperor to do what you all could not!"

Mannfred unleashed the power of Shyish, which manifested in the form of a purple sun, which advanced towards the gates of the fort, sucking in and destroying everything in its path, including Mannfred's own undead warriors.

This was the Purple Sun of Xereus, and it was one of the most powerful spells in Mannfred's arsenal.

When the Sun reached the gates, it smashed them open, splintering the solid Reikwald oak as if it was parchment, and ripping apart over a dozen men.

Remus stared in awe at his Lord. In mere seconds, Mannfred had done what the Saderans, and the Falmart Vampires could not do.

He had put a hole in the walls of Fort Griffon.

"Now." Mannfred called out, "Into the breach! Take the fort for me! Slay them all!"

And with that, countless undead and their vampire masters rushed towards the opening, eager to visit slaughter upon the mortals within.

* * *

Erhardt felt it long before he saw it. The spirit in his armor became restless, responding to something that came from the direction of the western gatehouse, directly to his right.

He turned his gaze there and saw a purple sun tear into the gate, smashing it open and killing many of his men just by passing through it. After a few seconds, it disappeared, but the damage was done;

His walls now had a hole in it.

"The gate has fallen!" Erhardt shouted, "To me Sons of Sigmar! By the Heldenhammer and all that is holy, do not let them inside or else we are all doomed!"

"Keep your wits about you Princeling." Gelt said as he began to cast another spell, "Losing your sense and allowing panic to overtake you will mean defeat."

Gelt began to glow, brighter and brighter, which forced Erhardt to cover his eyes, lest he go blind. It seemed as if Gelt's body had taken on the form of molten metal, and began to melting into the ground.

The light died down, but Gelt was gone. However, another bright light appeared before the destroyed western gatehouse, and out of the light stepped the Supreme Patriarch, who had used his magic to teleport from the wall to the ground.

"Men of the Empire!" Gelt shouted as he took out a lump of gold from his robes, "We must defend this gate with our lives. Should the enemy get in, we will all perish."

He dropped the gold before him, and began to chant, while a mob of undead began to approach.

"Gelt, what are you doing?" Erhardt shouted as he made for the staircase, "You cannot fight them all!"

If the Supreme Patriarch heard him, he made no response; instead, he imbued the gold lump before him with the power of Chamon, changing its shape to his desire. With every passing second, it grew larger and larger, becoming more complex in its shape. When Erhardt finally reached the bottom and made his way outside, Gelt had finished, and the Prince's eyes widened.

Gelt had taken a lump of metal, and had transformed it into an exact replica of a Helblaster Volley Gun.

Gelt looked at the approaching undead before him and uttered a single word.

"Fire."

The gun unleashed its deadly salvo, barrels rotating with every shot. The undead fell like wheat before a farmer's scythe, and it was all Erhardt could do to keep from staring in awe at the power of Gelt's spells.

"Handgunners!" Erhardt shouted to a group of men armed with rifles, "Support the Supreme Patriarch!

"Militia!" he then said, directed to the local humans and demihumans who made up the ragtag informal regiments, "Keep the undead away from the missile troops! Follow me!"

Grasping his warhammer with both hands, Erhardt led his people and stood before Gelt, becoming a wall between him and the enemy.

"Don't get in my way Prince." Gelt said, "I must concentrate to keep Gehenna's Golden Gun from losing its shape."

"Do not worry Supreme Patriarch. I will keep them off of you, even if it means my life."

"You'd sacrifice yourself for me?"

"I am a mere fourth son, but you are a powerful wizard. I'm replaceable, you are not."

"Then do as you will and keep the rotting corpses away from me while I cast." Gelt commanded, "And try not to die; your father would be most displeased with me if you did."

"Noted." Erhardt said as he gripped his warhammer, "Come then servants of Mannfed! Come meet your doom!"

* * *

"It seems that in addition to the High Loremaster, a Gold Wizard of great strength is among them." Mannfred said as he watched his forces be cut down whenever they tried to reach the broken gatehouse, "It must be Gelt… How very tedious.

"Remus." he stated, and the younger vampire stepped forward, "Find Gelt; he will be the wizard in the golden mask. Find him, and kill him. Once he is dead, the rest of the Western Wall's defenders will crumble before us."

"What of you master?" Remus asked.

"I will find the Elf, Teclis, and kill him, along with his brother. With the loss of their two strongest defenders, it will just be a matter of time before the fort falls-"

A loud horn blast stopped Mannfred words, making both vampires turn around and look at the blast's general direction.

"What was that?" Remus asked.

"That was a dwarf horn." Mannfred said, scowling, "Damn."

"The nomads? Why do you worry about them?"

"Dwarfs from my world you fool!" Mannfred snapped, "They're coming from the rear. Change of plans; you kill Gelt, but I will take to the back, lest we be caught between a dwarf hammer and a mortal anvil."

* * *

"Finally here!" Dolvana said as she rode up on her warsquirel to the top of the hill, "And… that is a lot of dead bodies between us and your human friends."

"I would not go that far." Kregan said as he marched up to her, gripping his hammers in both hands, "But the Empire umgi are longtime allies of the dawi. I'll not leave them to their doom."

"Good enough for me." Dolvana said as she raised a horn to her lips, blowing on it.

"Stormram Tribe!" she then shouted, leveling a spear, "Do you want to live forever?! If not, then charge!"

Thousands of dwarves on warsquirells charged down the hill, towards the massive undead army, without fear, and murder in their hearts. It was almost enough to move a heart of stone.

Almost.

"Crazy woman." Kregan said as he turned to Cato, "How about you wizard, ready to fight?"

"Give me time to prepare my spell." Cato replied, "Then stand back. I cannot guarantee your safety."

"Bah, noted." Kregan said, before he then turned and addressed his true dawi kin, "Brothers! I'll not waste time with speeches! By the Clan, break their skulls; tis the only way to be sure! By the Clan, break their skulls!"

With that, all of his kinsmen charged forth, chanting his words as a warcry.

"BREAK THEIR SKULLS! BREAK THEIR SKULLS! BY THE CLAN, BREAK THEIR SKULLS!"

The undead at the rear were unprepared for the charge of the nomad dwarves. War-squirrels crashed into the unprotected rear of the zombies, crushing rotting flesh beneath their powerful teeth.

"Come on brothers and sisters!" Dolvana shouted as she lopped a zombie's head off with her axe, "Show this lot of rotten meat how the Stormrams fight!"

She then dismounted her squirrel, gripped her axe in both hands, and tore into the zombies, cleaving limb from limb in a furious assault. All around Dolvana, her people did much the same, unleashing the Stormram's fury upon the foe.

Behind her, and over the furious sounds of battle, Dolvana heard Kregan and his force of iron dressed fatalists join the fray, shouting battle cries in their strange language.

"Break their skulls! Break their skulls!" Kregan shouted as he joined Dolvana, smashing a wight's skull with one of his hammers, "By the Clan, break their skulls!"

"You need not tell me twice Kregan!" Dolvana laughed as she buried her axe right between the eyes of another wight, "Does seem to be the fastest way of killing these things… well, killing them again! What's the Sage up to?"

"He's meditating, preparing himself to cast the spell!" the Thane replied, sweeping a wight's legs out with his strong foot, and then hammering it's skull in, "Then when it be time, we send the signal, and he unleashes hell!"

"Good to know!" Dolvana answered back, "Though, at the rate we're cutting through these things, perhaps we won't need him!"

"Show me a dawi who admits to needing magic, and I'll show you a short elf!" Kregan boasted, "That being said, don't underestimate these undead umgi; they may be weak individually, but their army is nearly numberless, but what the Sage has planned should give us the edge; though I'd much prefer a Runesmith at the moment!"

Before Dolvana could respond, an unholy screech filled the air, drawing both dwarves attentions to the sky, where the screech's origin was flying overhead.

"Ancestors…" Kregan said, "A zombie dragon… not one of those weaklings the Saderan umgi ride, but a proper monster from my world!"

Dolvana shattered the back of a skeleton soldier, and then squinted her eyes, peering at the approaching dragon.

"Something's on top of the bleeding thing!" she exclaimed, crushing the skelton's skull under her boots, "Is it one of those vampires you told me about?"

"I would bet a barrel of Bugman's on it." Kregan replied, then smashing both his hammers together, "He's out of our reach for now though. Stay focused on the enemies in front of us!"

"You don't need to tell me twice longbeard!" Dolvana exclaimed, before then mounting her war squirrel once again, and charged into the fray.

"Tch." Kregan grunted, "Not a drop of respect that woman's whole body."

* * *

Mannfred looked over the battlefield with a sneer on his pale face, ignoring the strong winds as his zombie dragon picked up speed.

"Fools." he muttered under his breath, "To have allowed these stunted rats to attack our rear… no doubt this is what I deserve for gifting such pitiful mortals the blood kiss."

Using his sorcery, Mannfred willed his mount to unleash its draconic breath upon the field. The long dead dragon obeyed its unliving master, and sprayed both enemy and ally alike, not with fire, but instead with a cloud of pestilent breath. Dwarves and war squirels alike that were unfortunate enough to be caught in the attack suffered a painful death; their armor corroded in seconds, and exposed flesh was stripped from the bone. A dozen dwarves died instantly, along with their mounts.

Mannfred smiled at the destruction he had wrought.

"Again." he whispered, and the dragon obeyed his commands.

The zombie dragon strafed the dwarves, unleashing its breath once again, this time killing a score of the foe. Mannfred let out a bloodthirsty laugh at the screams of agony, delighting in the suffering of his enemies.

'Once I am done with these dwarfs, the Princling and the elves will be next…' he thought.

He started to use magic to force it to use it's breath again when he saw something approach from the corner of his eye.

It was the High Elves' dragon, scales shining bright red, and flying right at him.

"The wyrm seeks to challenge me!" he shouted, turning his dragon's attention away from the dwarves, "Then so be it! It will die, and then I shall raise it into my service!"

Mannfred's dragon flew to meet the living dragon, and when the two beasts met, they immediately began to tear into one another with teeth and claws.

The live dragon took hold of the zombie's neck with its teeth, and began to bite down. In response, the zombie dragon raked its claws against its opponent, forcing the two of them to separate.

The dragon breathed hot flames at Mannfred's dragon. Rotting flesh and bleached bone caught alight, so hot did the flames of a dragon burn, and it was all Mannfred could do to use his magic to shield himself from the worst of the flames.

"Fire will not stop me!" Mannfred shouted, "Die dragon, and slave for me in death!"

The zombie dragon opened its mouth ,and unleashed its noxious breath once more, bathing the live dragon in its deadly fumes.

The live dragon roared in pain, but dragon scales are stronger than mortal armor, even those of the dwarfs. It did not stop; instead, it flew through the fumes, and in a burst of speed flew around Mannfred, and grabbed the zombie dragon's left wing with its teeth. With a mighty pull of the dragon's neck, it tore off the zombie dragon's wing form its body.

Mannfred roared in fury as his mount plummeted to the ground. But he would not die so easily. Abandoning his mount, Mannfred leaped from the saddle, and called upon his dark magic. Huge membranous wings erupted from his back, and begun to flap, lowering him down to the ground gently, while his mount crashed into the battle, crushing friends and foes alike, and breaking its neck from the impact, rending his creation useless for the time being.

Mannfred landed on his feet, in the middle of a melee between wights and the dwarfs. He looked around, a bloodrage filling his vision as the dwarfs turned their murderous intentions towards him.

"How dare they…" Mannfred whispered.

A dwarf in heavy armor approached Mannfred, axe at the ready, eager to kill the vampire before him.

Faster than he could blink, the dwarf lost his head, severed by Mannfred's sword, who had drawn it in an instant.

"How dare they!" Mannfred now shouted, sword in one hand, and sickle-staff in the other, "Come to me then you dirt dwellers!" Mannfred exclaimed as he leaped int oth fray, killing another dwarf with his staff, "Come and die at the hands of Mannfred von Carstein!"

* * *

"Break their skull!" Kregan shouted as he did just that to a wight, "Break their skulls! By the Clan, break their skulls!"

"Kregan!" Dolvana shouted as she rode alongside him, covered in gore and rotting flesh, "That dead dragon that the vampire was riding just crashed to earth! The vampire is down on the ground!"

"Then that's what I've been waiting for!" Kregan shouted back as he hooked his left hammer to his belt, and drew a pistol. He aimed it in the air, and pulled the trigger. Instead of a mere bullet, aflare was shot from the barrel instead, leaving a bright orange trail in the sky.

"There, I did m part!" Kregan said as he threw the pistol aside just in time for another wight to attack him, forcing Kregan to parry it's rust sword with his hammer, "Now it's all up to the Sage! Now then, let's get out of the blast range!"

Cato El Altestan, the Elder Sage, saw the flare with his one remaining eye, and knew that his time had come.

"I hope Kregan and Dolvana are out of range." Cato said aloud, partly to the handful of dwarfs whom were acting as his guards, but mostly to himself, as he stood up, finally ready to cast his spell, "This thing does not exactly discriminate you know."

He raised his staff, and began to chant words of power.

"Fire burns, and the earth is rent asunder." he said, gathering up his magical power, "May the flames purify, may the earth yield to my will, and may all know the terrible power that is to be unleashed here! I, Elder Sage of Coda, will demonstrate the greatest power at my disposal, and unleash it upon my foes!"

A huge fireball gathered at the top of his staff, starting out at the size of his head, but steadily growing larger and larger with each passing second, until it was a raging inferno the size of a house.

"Oh darkness of power, great might of the void, lend me your strength, and smite my enemies over yond!" Cato shouted "Now assorted zombies and undead! Face the full power of Explosion!"

He slammed the base of his staff to the ground, and the fireball was sent flying towards the battlefield, aimed directly at the heart of the undead army.

"Duck and cover!" Cato exclaimed, using magic to shout as loud as he could, before curling up into a ball, and placing his hands over his hat, bracing himself for what was coming.

The fireball hit the center of the undead host, and in an instant, a massive explosion filled the air.

* * *

The dwarfs were pulling back. That was his first clue that something was amiss.

Mannfred had run a fleeing dwarf and it's oversized squirrel through with his sword when he felt the earth shake. Turning around, he saw an enormous explosion engulf the center of hsi army, as well as expanding in all directions… namely, towards himself.

Mannfred had only seconds to act if he wanted to save himself. Throwing aside his weapons, he hastily began gathering the winds of magic towards himself, concentrating his strength to protect himself from the explosion, which was now close enough for Mannfred to feel the overwhelming heat.

With only a heartbeat away, Mannfred cast his spell.

* * *

The force of the explosion knocked Kregan, Dolvana, and her war squirrel to the ground, and made all the teeth in Kregan's mouth rattle.

"Grugni, Grimnir, Valaya!" he shouted, "I'm never gonna get used ta that!"

"What!" Dolvana shouted as she held her ears with both hands.

* * *

The ground shook, and Erhardt had to quickly correct himself lest he lose his balance. Thankfully, the wight before him was not as coordinated, and Erhardt slammed his hammer into it's rusted breastplate, caving it in, and sending it flying.

"Was that an earthquake?" he asked Gelt. The Supreme Patriarch shook his head.

"No." Gelt replied, uncharacteristic enthusiasm in his voice, "That, Prince Erhardt, was magic."

"What sort of magic could cause that-" Erhardt started, but was cut off when a figure flew through the open gate, and attacked him with a longsword.

Erhardt blocked the attack with his hammer, and took in the face of his enemy.

Pale skin, red eyes, and elongated canines marked his foe as a vampire, a revelation that caused Erhardt's heart to start beating faster, his old fears coming back.

The manner of dress, however, made Erhardt realize that this was no ordinary foe.

"So, you're Prince Erhardt?" Remus, King of Elbe said with a toothy grin, "I'm going to enjoy killing you. Oh father…."

The wight king that was once King Duran of Elbe approached Erhardt, armed with sword and shield, and struk at the reikland Prince, who sidestepped the deadly blow before making some distance between himself and the two undead monarchs.

"Well then…" Erhardt said as he shifted his hammer to his left hand, and drew his longsword with his right, "Come if you are coming."

* * *

The explosion had devastated the undead army, taking out a huge center of the zombies, skeletons, and wights that were being held in reserve, as well as a handful of vampires and necromancers.

Kregan smirked as he saw the destruction Cato had wrought, taking in the sights.

"I hope you're not ready to celebrate just yet." Dolvana said as she rode up next to him, "Cato's explosion ma have broken their center, but there's still tens of thousands of undead to fight."

""I am perfectly aware woman." Kregan said, "But this will break them! All we need to do now is mop them up!

"Kinsmen!" he shouted, "The Sage has given us a valuable opportunity! His explosion has punched a hole in the center! Now, let's keep up the momentum! Break their skulls! Break their skulls! By the Clan, break their skulls! CCCHHHAAARRRGGGEEE'

* * *

"What in Hardy's name is this?" Ules, of the Stormram Tribe, said as he approached the thing in question.

Upon his war squirrel, running down surviving undead, Ules saw something strange in the middle of the battlefield. So, he rode closer to investigate what it was… and was immediately sickened by what he found.

It was a massive lump of of bloody meat, seemingly made of the fused bodies of the zombies, skeletons ,and wights, all blackened from the explosion.

"What caused this?" he asked as he poked the flesh pile with his spear… only for a hand to emerge from the flesh, grab his spear, and pull him off his war squirrel and onto the ground.

Mannfred von Carstein pulled himself out of the flesh cocoon, bloody, and covered with gore. When Ules got to his feet, Mannfred pounced on him, sinking his teeth into the nomad dwarf's neck, and drank deeply. The squirrel, in an attempt to save its rider, jumped at Mannfred, who in turn dropped Ules, and grabbed a sword off the ground, sidestepping the charging squirrel, and cutting its head off in a single swing.

Mannfred then returned his attentions to Ules, grabbing the weakened dwarf by the neck, and resumed drinking. As the life left Ules, Mannfred's wounds began to heal, and he felt his strength returning.

When he was done drinking, Mannfred threw the dwarf corpse aside, and looked upon the advancing dwarfs.

"Alright…" Mannfred said as he once again gathered the Winds into him, "You showed me your best… now I shall show you my best.

"I call upon the Dark Riders of Akar'aran!" Mannfred said, "Come forth, and slay my enemies! Your master commands it!"

Mannfred cast his spell, and the ground before him split open. From the crack in the earth came a spectral rider, followed by another, and then another, until threescore ghost-knights had emerged, forming up in ranks, much as they would have in life.

"Dark Riders of Akar'aran!" Mannfred roared, pointing at the approaching dwarfs, "Charge! No quarter! No mercy!"

The riders did as Mannfred commanded, charging forward to meet the dwarfs in battle, and leaving Mannfred.

"Now then…" Mannfred said as he prepared another spell, "Time to reverse my fortunes…"

* * *

 _This vampire is faster than me._

That was the first thing Erhardt realized. That fact was true for all vampires. However, from experience, Erhardt also knew that vampires should be much faster than this Remus von Carstein. That meant he was a young vampire, and therefore inexperienced in using his powers.

That was an angle Erhardt would exploit, mercilessly.

Of course, he had to deal with the wight king as well.

The wight struck his breastplate with its sword, knocking the wind out of Erhardt. Instead of falling to the ground, Erhardt instead trapped the wight's sword at his right elbow, holding it in place with his upper and forearm. When the wight then tried to free its sword, Erhardt brought his hammer down upon the wight's arm, shattering it, and tearing the limb from the body.

Wasting no time, Erhardt then swung his hammer up, shattering the wight's golden facemask with an upward swing.

"You cur!" Remus shouted as he launched a series of swinging attacks at Erhardt, who desperately parried them, "As if father wasn't ugly enough already! Now I have to repair his shattered bones!"

"You reanimated your own father?" Erhardt asked, appalled at the vampire's disrespect, "What sort of son are you?"

"The kind who has been denied his birthright for far too long!" Remus shot back, kicking Erhardt in the stomach, "An eternity of servitude under my rule is only right for what he did to me!"

Erhardt's back hit the dirt, losing his grip on his weapons, and Remus stabbed at him with his sword, but the Reikland Prince quickly rolled out of the way and scrambled to his hands and knees..

With no time to grab his sword and hammer, Erhardt called upon his training, and heeded the words of his teachers.

When in doubt, fight dirty.

As Remus approached him, Erhardt grabbed a fistful of dirt, and flung it at the vampire's face; as the parasite had neglected to wear a helmet, he caught it directly in his eyes.

Temporarily blinded and cursing up a storm, Remus' approach slowed, and he did not see Erhardt rush him. Using his armored shoulder, Erhardt hit Remus like a runaway bull, knocking the vampire off his feet and to the ground.

Like Erhardt earlier, Remus had dropped hsi weapons; unlike Erhardt, the vampire was slow in standing up, eyes still burning from the dirt thrown into it. Through watery vision, he saw Erhardt's fist too late.

Erhardt drove an armored punch into Remus' face, quickly followed by another, knocking sharpened teeth out. The force of the blows made Remus' back hit the ground once more, but this time, Erhardt was upon him in a blink of an eye.

"Your kind disgusts me." Erhardt said with contempt, before quickly let loose a series of punches into Remus' face. Remus tried to grab Erhardt with his right arm, but Erhardt was too quick, instead shifting his body to grab Remus' arm with both his own arms and his legs. Applying pressure, Erhardt snapped the arm, causing the vampire to scream in pain.

"You throw away your humanity to become this poor imitation of life." he continued, raining down more punches to Remus' face, breaking the vampire's nose, and shattering his jaw.

Erhardt felt Remus' legs start to move, so he quickly turned around, and wrapped his body around the offending right leg, pulling back on it until it too snapped; Remus' foot now touched his shoulder.

"Do you know what I think?" Erhardt asked his newly crippled opponent, who could only sob in pain as Erhardt continued to pummel him.

"I think the reason you choose to become vampires is because you are weak; weak and scared, terrified of death!"

Erhardt stood to his feet, and looked down at Remus, now a pathetic wreck, broken by him.

"You become vampires because you think you can escape death… well, you are wrong on that account. Morr will always have his due, parasite, one way or another. You cannot escape death. It will _always_ find you.

"Today, Remus von Carstein, death comes for you…" the prince said as he raised his armored boot, "For today, I am His agent. Ave Morr."

With all the strength in his body, Erhardt brought down his foot on Remus' face, crushing the skull like a melon, and sending brain matter flying.

Thus did Remus von Carstein, born Remus Elbe, King of Elbe, died.

"In truth, your kind frightens me." Erhardt admitted as he removed his foot from the crushed skull of his enemy, "They always will… but so long as I take that fear, and turn it into righteous hatred, I will slay every last one of your kind."

Erhardt turned around and saw Remus' wight approach him, golden mask now broke, revealing his face to Erhardt.

"King Duran…" Erhardt said, eyes widening behind his helmet, looking down at the dead Remus, "Then, you are his father?"

The wight of Duran Elbe said nothing, but continued to march forward, each step slower than the last one. Without Remus' necromantic bindings to animate him, Duran would return to being a corpse.

"King Duran, you fought alongside us against the Dark Powers of Chaos, before the gates of Italica." he said, kneeling to pick up Remus' sword, then stood straight, blade at the ready, "You fought well that day, and gave your life to defy the Old Night; and end fitting for any man of the Empire. You deserved better than a venomous son who desecrated your remains. Alas, all I can do for you is return you to your grave."

Erhardt stepped forward, and cut Duran down, ending the magic that forced him to fight. Erhardt took one last look at the dead king, and threw Remus' sword to the dirt in disgust.

The Prince walked over to his own weapons, and picked them up, sword in right hand, and hammer in the left.

"Admirably done." Gelt said as he approached Erhardt, "By slaying the vampire, all the magic that compels his shambling minions to fight is gone as well; look."

Gelt motioned to the undead with a wave of his arm; sure enough, they were crumbling before Erhardt's very eyes. Foes that were once locked in deadly battle with his soldiers were now crumbling into dust, causing a great cheer to be heard throughout the fort.

"We have repelled the attack on the Western Gate." Gelt said, walking next to Erhardt, "But the battle still is not over. An army still remains before us, though the timely arrival of dwarfs has them occupied."

"Did you say dwarfs?" Erhardt asked, "How do you know this?"

"I have familiars in the air." Gelt explained, "I see what they see. The dwarfs have charged the enemy's read, and the mage who travels with them created a lake sized explosion, taking out at least a third of the enemy host, and breaking their ranks."

"Is Mannfred there, fighting the Dwarfs?"

Gelt nodded.

"Then we have not a moment to lose." Erhardt stated, turning around, eyes settling on a group of four halberdiers, running to reinforce the West Gate.

"You there, men!" he shouted, and the soldiers came running, saluting their Prince quickly.

"Your Highness?" one asked.

"You are to find Prince Tyrion," Erhardt said to the apparent leader, then turned to the second "You the Bretonnians," now the third, "You the Princess," finally, the fourth, "And you, Captain Bernhardt and Captain Voland. Tell them that the western gate is secure, but we now know where Mannfred is. I will be leading a charge of my knights against him, but I require their strength as well; now go, quickly now!"

The men saluted, ran off, and Erhardt turned to Gelt.

"I go now to take the head of Mannfred von Carstein; care to join me Supreme Patriarch? Your magic would be invaluable."

Erhardt thought he could sense the smile forming behind Gelt's mask.

"It would be my pleasure Your Highness."

* * *

Mannfred watched, delighted, as the Riders of Akar'aran slew scores of dwarfs, breaking the stunted fool's momentum, and allowing his own forces to regroup.

Still, he was no fool; he knew that the mortals defending Alnus Hill would soon seize the initiative, and ride out against him, trapping Mannfred and his host in a "hammer and anvil" maneuver. If he were a mortal general, he would have despaired.

He was not a mortal however; he was Mannfred von Carstein, Count of Sylvannia, rightful ruler of the Empire, and soon to be Emperor of Falmart. He would turn the tide of battle of this battle!

For he was now ready to cast one of his grandest spells.

"I break the walls of reality." Mannfred began, the power of Dhar forming around him, "I break the chains placed upon this place. I call you forth, oh ancient keep, heed the call of your master! Sound the horns, raise the banners, may the brass clad legions march once more! I call you here, oh Keep of Doom, now let your gates be open, for war is come!"

In a show of powerful sorcery, Mannfred had broken into a pocket dimension, and called forth that which lay trapped within.

In a cloud of arcane shadows, it appeared; stone walls and towers coming into existence, and mannfred stood before a great brass portcullis, which denied entry or exit.

With a wave of his hand, Mannfred raised the portcullis, a wicked grin on his face. From the shadows came a legion of wights in brass armor,, each carrying a wicked spear and cruel sword.

"Now, legions of Doom Keep!" Mannfred shouted, turning around to face the dwarfs, "Slaughter all my enemies!"

* * *

Teclis, High Loremaster of Hoeth, and Warden of the White Tower, was meditating. Sequestered in a room, and guarded by a pair of Swordmasters, he sat cross legged on the wooden floor, hands outstretched, and the Moon Staff of Lileath, imbued with the power of the Moon Goddess herself, levitated before him, slowly rotating around Teclis.

He had been absent throughout most of the siege, much to the concern of those fighting. They could not understand why he remained inside, for he himself did not entirely understand. In his visions, he saw that at the end of the siege, a great threat would appear, and none would have the power to overcome its insidious nature… save him. But to do so, he would require power; a great deal of it in fact.

So, he remained inside, gathering his power for a spell he was only certain would work, for a threat that he did not entirely understand.

Then he felt the change in the Winds of Magic; as if it was thunder powerful enough to shake the earth itself.

Teclis opened his eyes, and summoned the Moon Staff back to his hand, grasping it tight.

"Follow me." he said, and the swordmasters obeyed. Teclis stepped out into the open, taking no heed of the violence before him; artillery crews hastily loaded their cannons and bolt throwers to meet the oncoming tide of corpses. Empire men and Saderans fought on the walls, repelling siege towers and ladders. The Phoenix and the Dragon were fighting dozens of reanimated lesser drakes. Meanwhile, Teclis saw his twin and many others, elves and men alike, mounting their horses, clearly ready to ride out to meet the foe.

Teclis spared it all no more than a passing glance as he made his way up to the wooden battlements of the Eastern Gate, bloodied soldiers parting before him and his bodyguards. In fact, the only person he did acknowledge was busy loosing an arrow from her bow.

"Good day Tuka Luna Marceau." he said as he stepped alongside her, "I hope you are well."

Tuka turned and looked at him as if he was crazy; clearly, she was in no mood for his wit. Pity.

"Where have you been this past week High Loremaster?" sh asked, gripping her bow in both hands and hitting an approaching skeleton with it, knocking its skull off its neck and then kicking it off the wall.

"I had a vision of a threat, that was magical in nature." he replied as he cast a shielding spell, deflecting oncoming arrows, and then looked out over the battlefield, "I have been stockpiling my power for its arrival."

Teclis' eyes narrowed as he saw the Doom Keep before him.

"Now, I know I may have been locked inside for some time." he admitted, "But I am fairly certain that eyesore of a castle was not there before."

"It just appeared out of nowhere." Tuka said, notching another arrow to her bow, then sniped a vampire off his lesser drake mount. "Some sort of magic brought it forth."

"Magic indeed Lady Tuka." Teclis admitted, his spell deflecting an arrow that would have hit him in the eye, "I recognize that castle though; it was described to me by one of my peers in the White Tower, Archmage Anareth. That is Doom Keep, the seat of power of the deceased Victor von Carstein. It houses within its walls legions of wights, all bound to its power. Anareth banished the Keep to a pocket dimension several centuries ago. Since then, necromancers have been able to bring forth some of its wight soldiers, but never before has one of their foul number been able to bring forth the entire Keep."

"Is that the magical threat you have been waiting for?" Tuka asked, shooting a zombie in the eye.

"Indeed; I have waited and gathered enough power for my spell." Teclis said, turning around, "Though I fear the casting time will also take some time. Therefore, I must begin as soon as possible."

Teclis then sat cross-legged next to Tuka, and allowed the Moon Staff to begin rotating him once more.

"What are you doing?" Tuka asked incredulously.

"I am casting." he replied, closing his eyes, "Do not mind me; just keep fighting."

"Why would you cast here?! This wall is still under attack!"

"Because what I plan to unleash will most likely destroy the roof of whatever building I am in. Furthermore, if Mannfred von Carstein is going to do what I think he is, then this wall will no longer be under attack."

Tuka was about to ask how he could possibly know that, when she saw a great change occur in the mass of the undead army.

Just as Teclis said, the enemy had broken off their attack, and were marching towards the Doom Keep.

"They go to defend their master, to guard him while he completes his own ritual. He cannot be allowed to complete it, but I worry that my brother and the others will be too late to stop him. In which case, it is up to me."

* * *

Mannfred walked through the gates of Doom Keep, smirking at the thought of his imminent victory. Following close behind were a collection of vampires and necromancers, his inner circle, who hailed from Sylvania and from Elbe.

"This has been a long time coming." he said he stopped, taking in the imposing architecture of the castle, "With Doom Keep in place, my victory has all but happened."

"Remus is dead." Maxos von Carstein, Mannfred's right hand, said, "And his assault on the fort has failed."

"Remus was a pawn, nothing more." Mannfred replied, "His knowledge of this world was good for some time, but that did not make him invaluable. Regardless, any losses we have suffered today will be offset by the power of Doom Keep."

"With all due respect my lord," a necromancer, with a noose tied around his neck, spoke up, "While the Legions of Doom Keep are welcome, how is a castle supposed to bring us victory? I thought we were supposed to take the Fort, and the Gate which lays upon it."

"I thought you knew me well enough, Hanged Man." Mannfred answered, "I would not bother with a simple pile of stones and mortar; not unless it had what I truly needed. You see-"

A series of horn blasts cut Mannfred off, causing him to scowl.

"Elf horn, followed by an Empire horn." he growled, before then turning to his Inner Circle, "There is no time to explain, only for you to obey! All of you, take command of the wight legions, and prepare to defend the walls! Do not let any of the mortals inside! Stop them with your lives if you have to!"

They all bowed, and then left to complete their tasks. Mannfred turned on his heel, and made his way to the entrance to the great hall, pushing its massive door open with a simple push of his hand.

Standing several stories tall, the hall was decorated with stained glass depicting the history of the vampire race; from spoiled Neferata, to the 1st Vampire War. Perched upon stone pillars, reaching high towards the ceiling, were stone gargoyles, fearsome to behold, and Mannfred could sense the magic that laid within the stonework.

At the back of the great hall was a single throne, carved out of black stone, and decorated with gold and precious gemstones. It was gaudy, even by the standards of thrones, and upon closer inspection, Mannfred could see that the throne was further decorated with frescoes of what appeared to be orgies of men, women, and beasts.

Mannfred let out a disgusted noise at the sight, but nonetheless sat down, and took in the sight of the empty great hall before him.

" _Who dares_ …" a raspy voice said, echoing from all corners of the hall, " _Who dares come here…? Speak! While you still have a tongue!"_

"Hello Victor." Mannfred said pleasantly, "Surely you remember me?"

" _Mannfred_ …" the voice said, " _Is that you_?"

"It is my dear brother-in-darkness. I've freed you from your prison. Now, it is time for you to do something for me…"

* * *

"Break their skulls! Break their skulls! By the Clan, break their skulls!"

"I'm trying Magni!" Dolvana shouted, driving an axe into the head of a fallen wight, "But they just keep coming!"

"Do not interrupt a dawi when he's chanting, woman!" Kregan shouted back, hammering in the chest of another wight, "You cannot possibly understand our ways!"

"No, I don't! But I do understand that we're being pushed back!"

Kregan did not bother to give a reply; further banter would only distract him, and get him killed.

As he dispatched another wight, he smelled something foul fill the air, coming from his right. Turning in that direction, he saw a dog like beast, flesh rotting and skull exposed, charge at him, black teeth bared and bloody.

Kregan charged it, a curse upon his lips, and hammers at the ready. When it was mere breaths away from him, he swung his right hammer at its head, cracking bone. This was not enough to stop it however, as its momentum still crashed into Kregan, sending the dwarf lord tumbling to the ground. The monster, whatever it was, was quickly back on its feet however, and pounced on Kregan, who raised his right arm to shield himself, and when the monster grabbed his arm with its teeth, its fangs punching through his armor, Kregan merely grunted, not giving it the pleasure of hearing him scream.

Kregan grabbed its skull with his free hand, and pulled; his people may be shorter than the umgi and the elgi, but by Grungi, he had more strength in their arms than a dozen elgi!

Roaring through gritted teeth, Kregan pushed with his legs and pulled with his arm, prying the monster's head from its body. Wincing, he pried loose the jaws from his arm, a fresh jolt of pain coursing through his body as he extracted the fangs from his flesh. With a disgusted noise, he threw the head aside.

"Your arm!" Dolvana said, worry in her voice as she rushed over to Kregan, "That… does not look good."

"I'll be fine." he replied, clamping a hand around his wound in an effort to stop the bleeding, "The damned grobi have given me worse in my time!"

"You don't understand, that was a crain hound." she explained, "Their bite is highly venomous. You need to get to the healers right away if you want to live!"

Kregan looked around, eyes narrowing.

"I don't think that's gonna be possible lass."

The dread castle's gates were opened, and an army of wights were marching through it, easily double the number of undead the dwarfs had killed when they arrived.

The dwarfs were now on the defensive, with the overwhelming numbers of the undead now crashing against them. All around Kregan and Dolvana, dwarfs, both of his Clan and her Tribe, were dying, slain by a seemingly endless tide...

"It seems we're doomed." Kregan said as he picked up his hammer, "I'm going to make them work for it though."

"Unlike you, I have no desire to die a glorious death in battle." Dolvana said as she mounted ehr war squirrel, "And neither should you."

"You expect me to turn tail and run woman?"

A horn blast was blown, followed by several others.

"No, I expect you to look over there." she said, pointing towards the hill.

Kregan followed her finger with his gaze, saw what she had meant, and allowed himself a grim smile.

Over a hundred knights, men of the Empire, Bretonnia and more, and elves from Ulthuan, were charging the undead lines, lances and swords flashing, and their horses trampling unfortunate undead.

"Then it seems my death will be later then." he said, "My ancestors will have to wait for the pleasure of my company."

Letting out a battle cry in Khazalid, Kregan charged back into the fray, his arm be damned. 

* * *

When Erhardt stabbed the wight through the chest, his lance finally broke off inside the thing. Undeterred, Erhardt threw aside his broken lance and drew his sword instead. Blade in hand, he charged his horse through the lines of the foe, using machine like efficiency to cut down any wight that came within reach of his blade.

He and his men needed to get into Doom Keep, before whatever Mannfred was planning came to pass. The High Loremaster was unsure just what the vampire was attempting to do, but Erhardt did not need the elf to tell him that it was anything but ill.

Erhardt and his knights had ridden out in force, alongside Pina's Rose Knights, Prince Tyrion and Vanon's elves, the Bretonnians, and the mercenary horsemen, smashing their way through the ranks of the undead in a desperate ride to reach the gates of Doom Keep.

"There is the entrance." Gelt shouted to the prince as he rode alongside Erhardt, "It is well guarded however."

A score of wights stood in the gateway, lead by a vampire in crimson armor. They looked fierce, and Erhardt felt the terror return to his heart. He pushed it away though; there was no time to waste.

"The gate is closing!" Erhardt heard someone say, and he locked his gaze to the entrance of the Keep.

Sure enough, the steel gate was being lowered, an attempt to keep the living outside while Mannfred completed his ritual.

"We must hurry!" Erhardt shouted, and he kicked his horse, "Before they close the gate!"

"Allow me!" Gelt shouted as he began to cast, "I will turn the gate to rust!"

Magic formed in the Supreme Patriarch's staff, and and sent forth a wind of rust at Doom Keep's gate. Within seconds, the steel of the bars changed from black to red and brown. The spell had also affected the weapons and armor of those who stood before them, turning their deadly weapons useless.

As they approached the gate, the vampire leading the wights threw down his blade and launched himself into the air, great leathery wings sprouting from his back, and clawed hands bared. The vampire flew at Erhardt, seeking to kill the Empire Prince.

Erhardt pointed his sword forward, and stabbed the vampire through the chest, impaling him up to the hilt. This was not enough to kill the vampire though, as the bloodsucker grabbed Erhardt's shoulders and, fangs bared, made to bite down on the Prince's neck.

In response, Erhardt smashed his skull faced helmet against the vampire's face, breaking cartilage, and forcing it to let go of him. Erhardt then released his grip on his sword, thereby allowing the vampire to fall to the ground, and become immediately trampled by the knights behind him.

Erhardt pulled back on the reins of his horse, forcing it to come to a stop before the line of wights. Though their weapons were rusted by Gelt's magic, Erhardt was at present unarmed, and had no desire to face the wights without a weapon.

Thankfully, the knights behind him were still armed, and the wights were quickly scattered by the full force of their charge.

It was too late though; the gate had closed.

"Damn it all!" Erhardt shouted as he dismounted, "We need to get inside!"

"And we shall." Gelt said, "My spell rusted the metal, weakening it enough for us to pull it down."

He raised his staff, and two chains of metal emerged from it, the ends of each one wrapping around the rusted bars, while the other ends fell to the ground.

"Tie these ends to horses." Gelt explained, breathing heavily, "Then have them pull; that will bring it down, and allow us entry."

"Are you alright Supreme Patriarch?" Erhardt asked as a Reiksguard and a Bretonnian did as Gelt asked, "You appear tired."

"Casting spells takes a toll on one's body and spirit." he explained, "And I have been calling upon Chamon throughout the day."

"Do you need to rest then?"

"I am not an invalid, Prince; I will see this through. You, on the other hand, are in need of a weapon. I suggest you arm yourself."

Erhardt said nothing, but nodded, leaving the Supreme Patriarch be as the knights began to attach the magic chains to their horses.

"Unarmed, Prince Erhardt?" Pina asked as she walked up to him, "A good way to get oneself killed."

"A vampire took my sword from me." he said, "I'm going to see if he can return it."

"Do not bother." she said, "I saw it on my way here; the blade is broken, no doubt trampled by the stampede of our knights."

"Damn." he stated.

"Not to worry; you may borrow this." she replied, holding out a short sword of Saderan make, "Not as long as what you are used to I am afraid, but it's served me well for these many years."

"My thanks then."

Erhardt grabbed it by the handle, but Pina did not relax her grip, Instead, she grabbed his arm, and pulled him closer, and whispered into his ear.

"I'll be expecting this back." she said, "So stay alive."

"I intend to my lady."

"Good; then in that case, tonight you may repay me properly."

"Tonight? You don't mean-"

"Look!" someone shouted, drawing Erhardt and Pina's attention elsewhere, "Up there!"

Atop the walls of Doom Keep, there was movement; it was in the form of dozens of stone gargoyles, animated by dark magic, leaping off the walls and taking wing, swooping down at the knights.

"To arms!" Erhardt shouted, drawing his short sword, "The fight has only begun!"


End file.
